A Most Dangerous Game
by AngelicTears
Summary: Modern Day AU, possible EC. Erik, through the course of his work meets Christine DuBois..but there's a major flaw, in the way of her boyfriend, Randall, whom Erik has been hired to take care of. Read the Prologue and you'll understand more...
1. Prologue: The Job

**A/N: New as of 2.22.08- Okay, gone for a long, long time, I know. Real life can be so annoying, right? To new readers: just a heads up, "Erik's" chapters are in 3rd person, Christine's are in 1st person, to clear up any confusion. **

**To old readers: thanks for sticking with me! I promised I would never give up on this story, and I haven't. :)**

**Prologue: The Job**

The melodic flow of the piano was interrupted with the slamming of his fist, which was caused by the ringing of a phone. The once gentle music was now a cacophony of notes. Erik glanced at the mobile phone that was ringing, and decided to ignore the call. Whoever it was, they could wait.

Turning back to his music, he picked up the pen and quickly scribbled some notes on the blank score before the tune was lost in his head forever. It was the first time in months that Erik had been able to compose again, to return to his music. His muse had left him--and why shouldn't she have? Instead of devoting his time to his art, he had devoted it to...other things. But she was back, if only for the moment, and he was detirmined to use every bit of her inspiration. However, his time was again interrupted by the shrill sound of the phone.

With a sigh, he rose from the piano and crossed to the rich mahogany desk where his phone currently sat. He instantly recognized the number--a private line from Smith & Associates. His curiosity peaked. What could they want this time? Who needed to be followed, watched...taken care of? With another sigh, he opened the phone and listened to the man on the other line.

After listening, and agreeing to the task, Erik hung up and replaced the phone to its spot on the desktop. It was not the first job he had done for these men. But, he would endeavor to make it his last. He was tired of playing private investigator and hired assassin to financial wizards who would stop at nothing to either scare or get rid of potential threats to their company. His employers only knew him by his first name, or more commonly--The Phantom. Erik never met any of the men he worked for. It was safer that way, for all parties concerned. After initial contact was made, and a file of personal details pertaining to the job was sent, Erik, true to his alias, would become a ghost, and finish the task. He never got caught, never was seen, never was known. Although there had been a few close calls, he made sure his mobile phone was untraceable, his address hidden and unlisted. He never even went out during the daylight hours, preferring to slip through the shadows of night unnoticed.

He had retreated to America, to Boston, nine years earlier to find peace. His days as a European government assassin were over. But apparently news of his "talents" had traveled to the States on rumors from foreign businessmen who helped fund the governments Erik use to serve. It was two years after he had originally moved when he received his first call to do a job. He had never been quite sure how they had been able to contact him initially. He assumed his one personal contact in the world, Nadir, had been forced to give out his contact information when he was needed in America. Against his doubts, he agreed to the job, and immediately began taking more care to secure his privacy and isolation, reconstructing many of his walls and barriers he had had in Europe. Once again he slipped into further anonymity and oblivion. Still, he had not found the peace or the solace he desired.

So, nine years later, he was still doing jobs for corporations, high class companies, even government jobs. Ridding these new men of obstacles and burdens, ridding them of employees who knew too much, saw too much, and exploited or blackmailed the CEOs and company presidents. But again, he wanted to be done. Erik had earned a considerable fortune over the years, held in private, anonymous overseas bank accounts. He had millions of dollars to his name. After this job was done, he would truly disappear, indulge himself in his music, music that no one else would ever hear. He had been careless on his first move to America, giving Nadir the means to find him, contact him. But after this, The Phantom would truly disappear into the night.

Right after he took care of Randall Chagny.

**A/N: Please Review! This is a short first chapter/prologue...so much more to come!**


	2. Breaking Up?

**Chapter 1: Breaking Up**

I sighed as a stepped out of the steam filled bathroom. I'm mostly a "morning shower person," which helps make up for the fact that I am by no means a "morning person." Showering in the morning serves as my intermediate step between dreaming blissfully and facing reality. I use that time to wake up and either muse on what my sleeping self envisioned, or I fret about my worries of the day and what needs to be done. It's a good time to organize my thoughts and get a start on my daily life.

But tonight, my body screamed to have an evening shower. I had been sick for the past week with some sort of flu or cold. It was only the third week of August, practically still summer, and I had already caught whatever bug was going around. _My first illness of the season, but probably not my last,_ I had thought bitterly all week. I had just graduated in the Spring and thought that getting away from the close living quarters of college life and class would isolate me from the dreaded sickness bug for good. I had been wrong.

Today, Sunday, was day nine since I had first fallen ill, and I was finally back to some semblance of my normal self. I had even called my boss earlier in the afternoon to start rescheduling hours at the library, and had attended one of my practices over at the dance studios. It didn't feel great to know I had to go back to work in two days, but it had felt fabulous putting on my shoes and dancing again after what felt like years, even though it had only been days.

That great feeling only lasted until I got home later in the evening and my body decided to rebel. I couldn't remember feeling this sore in...years! I had been training nonstop in dance for so long I had truly forgotten what those first muscle cramps and pain could feel like. It would take at least a week for my muscles to relax out and remember their pre-illness flexibility. The shower I had just finished had certainly helped a lot. The almost scalding hot water I was accustomed to had delivered some relief for my aching muscles. Plus, I could always do some stretches later on after I dried off to help with my flexibility. I had tried staying limber through the past week, but instead of more torture to my body, I had opted to lay on my couch and watch the TNT Network's "Primetime in the Daytime" while downing Sudafed and other cold remedies.

As I stepped out of my room, now changed into pajama pants and a tank top, the aura of illness slightly less pervasive, my roommate called to me from our kitchen. I trudged in to see what she wanted.

"Hey, Christine! Wow-- you look a million times better!" said Meg cheerfully.

I had to smile in agreement. "Thanks, I feel a million times better, too. The wonders of a shower. I might switch to night showers all the time now. You know, wash off all the problems of the day."

Meg pursed her lips. "Yeah, but then it will be impossible to get your ass up in the morning."

"True, true," I laughed at her point. We continued chatting about our plans for the upcoming week, what we had going on in the ways of work, and when we could find time to go shopping to replenish our sadly bare refrigerator and cupboards. Meg jumped suddenly and got that "I-just-remembered-something" look on her face. I waited.

"Chris, I forgot to tell you-- Randall called while you were in the shower. Actually he called twice. And he wasn't that pleasant with my either. Have you been avoiding him or something? He sounded, like, really desperate to speak with you."

I sighed. Randall. Not a subject I really wanted to think about at the moment. I had been using my week long illness as a semi-excuse to not speak to him. But now that I was getting back into my life, I knew that wouldn't hold up for long. I looked at Meg. She was waiting for some sort of confirmation or denial about my ongoing aloofness towards my boyfriend.

"I don't know, Meggie. I haven't been trying to avoid him, I guess." _Such a lie, Christine!_ "I just haven't really felt like talking to him this week, what with being sick and all." I hoped she'd let it drop, but Meg knew better.

"Okay, I don't actually believe that's all that's going on. Even before you caught the flu bug, you hadn't been going out much. Seriously, is something going on? I don't want to be super blunt, but really--do you want to break up with him or something? If so, avoiding him-- yeah, not helping."

_Did I want to?_ I thought sadly to myself...

Despite her plain-spoken phrasing, Meg did genuinely look concerned. I think she took it upon herself to be our relationship guide and counselor. She was the one, after all, who had set Randall and I up three years ago. At first the relationship seemed perfect. Randall was smart, so polite, and, excuse me for saying, really attractive! He came from a great family, had solid direction in life, and he really knew how to charm a girl. Meg introduced us at a party one night, and almost immediately we clicked. I honestly felt like I had known him my whole life. Like we had been childhood sweethearts or something. That's how great we meshed together.

He was a three years older than me, so when we met during my sophomore year of college, he was getting ready to graduate. I figured after he got out of school he'd move on to some high paying finance job, we'd split up, and that would be that. I was determined to make it fun while it lasted. However, after his graduation, it kept lasting. Randall did get a great job with a finance firm, Smith & Associates, through an old connection of his dad. Smith & Associates was one of the best firms in Boston, and at first I was so excited for him. But after two years of working there, things began to change. Randall's job started to completely take over his life. We stopped going out as much, hardly saw each other, and he was always irritable.

We had had a pretty deep heart to heart after things looked like they were disintegrating, about a year ago. I had been ready then to call it quits. I was going to be starting my senior year of college, I was starting to dance more and more, and couldn't worry about Randall's moods anymore. I thought that was the direction our talk was going to go in-- breaking up. But somehow, it hadn't. I was never really sure had Randall had managed to spin things to make it seem like we should keep going. But we did.

The last six months had been the roughest. I was dealing with all my finals, and preparing to graduate. After May, I began dancing professionally for Boston Ballet. I was no Prima Ballerina, but I was getting by, and just loved the opportunity to perform. I had always grown up wanting to perform. My father had been a musical director and my mother had been a singer. When I was young, I wanted to sing onstage just like my mother. Although, instead of voice lessons, I started off taking dance, like most little girls, when I was 4. Dance just stuck. It wasn't that I didn't like singing or that I was bad at it. People always told me I had a nice voice. I just wasn't exceptional. And without training there wasn't much to do about it when I got older. But I kept dancing and that seemed to fit. And after my parents accident...

Meg's cough interrupted me from my thoughts. Then I remembered her question...Were we breaking up?

"Honestly, Meg, I don't know. You've seen what the past six months have been like for us. I've been so busy dancing and working in between. Ever since Randall started working at the firm, he has been putting all of his energy into that. That's been almost two years now!"

"But I thought you and Randall worked some of that stuff out last year?" Meg countered.

"Well, we sat down and had a pretty major talk. I guess we 'worked things' out at the time. But, Meg, surely you can see it hasn't kept up." It was almost a question, but I didn't really expect her to answer. She didn't. So I continued.

"These past six weeks or so...something has been different, Meg. I don't know just what. I mean, Randall and I had major problems before. We still do. But he's been acting so strangely lately. He seems completely stressed out all the time. He gets really short with me. We argue over everything-- the littlest things! At first I just thought he was working too many hours. But it seems like it's something else. I couldn't name it at first, but now I realized what else is going on..." I hesitated. Should I really go on and tell her? Meg was my best friend. I could see concern and a hint of curiosity in Meg's eyes. Well, no stopping now, I guessed.

"He's... Randall...well, he's been acting almost paranoid lately. Very jumpy. Always watching over his back, like someone is after him. He's being so cryptic. Like, he has some big secret he doesn't want me or anyone else to find out. Almost like he's leading a double life or something." There, I confessed what was on my mind. In a way, I immediately felt better. I had my suspicions about what was going on with Randall. But it would be great to get someone else's opinion.

"Do you think...do you think he's been cheating on you?" Meg asked hesitantly. "I mean...looking over his shoulder, being nervous... maybe he's trying to make sure you aren't being seen by someone else, another girl?"

"As much as I hate to admit it, I thought that way at first, too. I mean, it would explain so much. But the more I think about it, it can't be that. Meg... he isn't just paranoid, like he's going to get caught out in public two timing by another girlfriend. It's almost like he's scared. Terrified. I see so much fear in his eyes. And I can't figure it out."

"Well, you're never going to figure it out by not returning his phone calls. Now, before you get all defensive, I get it. I always thought you two were perfect together. But, you're right, even I can see that things aren't going well, even after you guys talked it over last year. Actually, I'm honestly surprised you haven't killed him yet!" Meg joked.

"It isn't that I don't love Randall...but that spark isn't there anymore. I don't know. Maybe that certain "something" isn't meant to last between two people for so long. And I don't know if I want to dump him. But I would like to know what has been going on. Even if I don't stay his girlfriend, I still would care too much about him to let something tear him apart. And whatever he's hiding...that's what it is doing-- tearing him up inside. I can see it, Meg."

Meg looked thoughtful for a moment, in silence. "Well... Chris...you have to talk to him. Just get him to open up. Maybe you won't stay together. But he should at least be honest with you."

I nodded. "And I should be honest with him. Maybe I have been playing my 'sickness trump card' a little too much lately."

"Exactly!" Meg smiled. "So, get on that phone and call him before he rings another fifty times and interrupts my television time!"

I knew Meg was right. I couldn't put it off any longer. We stayed chatting for another half hour, then Meg went off for her "much deserved television time." If I had to teach 4th graders all day, I would probably want nothing more than TV time myself. But right now I had other things to do. Like call Randall.


	3. Too Many Years

**Chapter 2:** **Too Many Years**

The walk from my apartment to the dance studios only took about fifteen minutes, so of course I procrastinated leaving for as long as I could. With Meg home as a distraction, it was far easier.

"Please tell me you called him," Meg said with that scolding parent look.

"Yes, yes, yes. I called him after our little chat three nights ago-- _And_, before you start asking me a million questions, we didn't speak for long. Nothing is resolved, and I have nothing to report." Meg had been my friend since high school, and I loved the fact that she looked out for me so closely, but sometimes her onslaught of questions annoyed me. So, best to nip them in the bud.

"Okay,okay. Inquiring minds just wanted to know..." She looked a little hurt at the way I had snapped at her.

"Well, if it makes you happier, we're meeting this afternoon when I'm finished dancing. I've been trying to catch my body up, so I haven't been able to meet with him yet. Plus, I have auditions coming up soon, so I at least wanted to get in a few days of solid practice without some Randall-Relationship fight to dwell on."

Meg smiled, apparently mollified. "Well good! Practice, then work things out with Randall. Even if 'working things out' means taking some time off from each other. There's nothing wrong with that. Although I'll feel like the fairy tale couple in my life has been killed."

"Geez, no pressure from you, right?" I laughed.

"I try. Besides, you may not even have a fight to worry about. He might feel exactly the same way. Maybe he's been calling twenty times a day to break up with you. You never know. And if he does, then you'll feel silly for the whole thing, and then just immerse yourself in dancing!"

"I hope you're right. I can't have too many distractions in my life. Starting work again is rough enough. I need this contract with the Opera. It would be huge for me. I've got to really focus on this one. We not only have to dance-- we have to sing. It's a pretty big production, and they aren't going to just take me because I dance well. They're looking for triple-threats this time."

Triple-threats-- actors, singers, and dancers rolled in to one. I shuddered to think about the amount of girls who would show up just to be a dancer and in the chorus. I knew most of them would probably sing better than I. But the dancing I had down. In the world of opera, it seemed everyone was on a level playing field with the acting part as applied to their respective art. Now I just wished I had actually begged my parents to let me have voice lessons. No, I wished I still had my mom and dad to teach me themselves. I remembered them giving impromptu lessons and tips to friends from their theatre circle. I needed that advice now.

"I'm sure you'll be great at auditions. You can _obviously_ dance already, so that's no big deal? Just get your body back into shape, and you'll be fabulous. And as for singing-- please, Christine, I hear you singing in the shower all the time. You don't fool me. Your voice is good! Imagine how you would be with some proper help. Which I'm sure they'll give you once you're cast!" Meg pointed out, the forever optimist.

"If I'm cast," I said, the forever pessimist. We made a good duo. "Which I won't be if I don't go rehearse, and if I hang around here any longer, I'll be late."

We said our goodbyes as I went to go quickly pack up my stuff, threw some jeans on over my leotard, grabbed my pointe shoes, and ran out the door.

The weather was still really hot, but nice. I walked down the old red brick and cobblestone sidewalk in the shade through my Beacon Hill neighborhood. Meg and I had been entirely too lucky when we had found our apartment in an old brownstone building. Beacon Hill was filled with the wealthiest, well-to-do people in Boston. Rent was generally outrageous, especially for college students and those just starting out in life.

Through some friend of a friend, Meg and I had heard about a wealthy, but eccentric, woman who was somewhat of a philanthropist. She owned an entire building on Chestnut Street, and each of the floors had been turned into separate, fully furnished apartments. Mrs. Valérius, the owner, lived on the top two "penthouse" floors as we called them, and rented out the bottom three only for students or recent graduates, and at an unheard of rent for the city. Though, if she liked you enough, she let you stay on has she had with the couple who used to live in our apartment. They'd been there for five years after they both graduated, but soon became engaged and married, then decided to move out of the city. Mrs. Valerius had a vacant apartment, and Meg and I had the money to spend. Seven-hundred dollars a month in rent, plus we had to pay our own cable and internet bills. All other utilities, even laundry, were included.

Money hadn't been much of an issue for me throughout college though. I wished the reason was because my parents were doctors, or lawyers, or in some other high paying career. But they weren't any of these things. My parents were dead.

It had been almost five years since my parents' deaths. At first, right after it had happened, I couldn't stand the grief or the guilt I felt. I didn't think my parents' death was my fault. But I felt guilty because I should have died with them. I should have been in the same accident that took their lives.

It was late February of my senior year in high school. I had just turned 18 and I thought things couldn't get better. I was a senior member of my local ballet studio in Connecticut where we lived. I was rehearsing everyday for my upcoming recital where I had three solo pieces. My parents were working for a regional theatre company at the time, but my father had been offered a job as the music director at the Connecticut Opera in Hartford. I had been accepted to college at the Boston Conservatory of Arts for the dance program, on a full tuition scholarship. Things were definitely great.

Before my father started his new job, he and our family had been invited to attend the Connecticut Opera annual gala fundraiser. At first I had been so excited about the thought of going until I realized the event was on the same weekend as Meg's 18th birthday, an event that could absolutely not be missed. Her parents were going to take us both to New York City for the weekend and were paying for us to see a Broadway show. I had used to live in New York with my parents, but we had moved to Connecticut when I was very young. I hardly remembered living there. And I had never seen anything on Broadway, although my parents promised me someday I would dance there.

My parents understood my need to celebrate Meg's birthday, and even encouraged me to go. My father just smiled and said I would have plenty of future opportunities to attend parties at the Opera, so missing one wasn't even a big deal. He would hardly know anyone yet, so it might be awkward anyway.

So with a smile on my face, I packed into Meg's family car and we drove off to New York, leaving my parents behind. I hadn't even said a proper goodbye because I had just gone straight with Meg after school. It was sometime during the finale of Les Miserables that my parents had gotten into a wreck on the icy Connecticut roads on their way home from the gala. I didn't even know about the accident until I arrived home on Sunday evening to an empty house. My parents' car was gone, so naturally I assumed they were just out. When I listened to my answering machine, my heart sank.

It was the police calling from the hospital. They had called the night before looking for me and said I needed to contact them right away or head to the Intensive Care Unit. I jumped into my car and drove as fast as I could to the hospital, ignoring the road conditions. It's amazing that I made it safely.

When I got to the hospital I found a nurse who looked up my parents information. She made a few phone calls, and within minutes a police officer and a doctor came down into the waiting room to speak to me. There had been a terrible accident. Icy roads. Car hit a tree. Parents on life support. Brain dead. Could they stop the machines? Could they donate organs?

It was too much for me, and I just stared at them blankly. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't react. My entire world was upside down. Like I was in Wonderland...like any moment I would wake up from my dream and find myself on my living room couch, having fallen asleep to some fantasy movie and my mom would be there waiting to send me to bed. Not there, dead, waiting for me to decided whether I should have her organs donated.

The rest of the time was a blur. Meg and her parents came at some point, although I can't remember how they knew to find me at the hospital. Maybe I had called them? Maybe the police? I wasn't sure. The doctors all told me there was no way my parents could recover from the state they were in. I decided to kill their machines, killing them. And the whole time I knew I shouldn't have to make that sort of decision. I knew because I should have been there too, lying beside them, hooked up to my own machine, waiting for someone else to decide my fate. I should have been with them in that car, coming home from the gala. I had chosen my best friend's birthday...but shouldn't I have chosen my family that weekend? Deep down, I knew I had already been planning Meg's trip weeks before we knew about the gala. But it still hurt. The guilt was still there. I was torn. I wanted to have been with them. To have had one more night, one more beautiful weekend. But the other part of me was almost glad to have been in New York. I wasn't really ready to be dead either.

I barely remembered the funeral. There had been so many people who had shown up to pay their respects to my parents. Old friends, fellow actors, singers, performers, directors-- all came to say goodbye to my parents. I was a wreck. I sobbed through the entire day, the entire week really.

Every year since then, the pain and grief and guilt had become less and less. It still hurt. I still felt empty inside. I missed my parents, and their love. Meg had become my family. Even Randall had helped fill the void originally, but even that paled in comparison to what I had had at home. I barely finished up the school year and graduated from my high school. I had stopped dancing for quite awhile after the accident, and really paid for it when I went to college in the fall. But even I survived freshman year.

All of my parents money and savings had been left to me when they died. Since I was already 18, I was legally an adult, and took care of myself. I had no other family. I also collected insurance money from their wrecked car. It wasn't a lot of money as their car had been fairly old, but even so, it felt, in a deranged way, like blood money to me So I donated it all to my old dance studio as scholarship money for some other little girl who would grow up to be like me.

Since I was on scholarship at the Conservatory the only thing I had to pay for was Room and Board. Through what was willed to me, I had more than enough money. But soon I knew the money would run out. I had originally gotten a part time job to keep me active more than anything else. But I still kept the job, even now, at the Boston Public Library. I hoped someday soon I'd become a big enough star and could quit. But, I actually enjoyed my job. Working at the library was so different from dancing, it served as a nice contrast-- very slow and quiet compared to the dedication and focus dancing required. And plus, it beat waitressing like so many other performers had to do.

Eventually I sold my house in Connecticut. It wasn't my home anymore without my parents, despite all the years I had lived there. For holidays and vacations I went to stay with Meg, and later a few times I went to spend time with Randall and his family in California. Then in our Junior year of college, Meg, who was at Boston University, and I heard about Mrs. Valérius' apartment deal, and we jumped at the chance. It was somewhat of a small commute for both of us either by walking, train, or sometimes I drove. But the apartment was gorgeous, and in one of the safest neighborhoods in Boston. And cheap. I couldn't complain.

As I continued to walk that day to Boston Ballet's studios, I thought some more about my parents. I really could have used their help right now. I wanted to make this audition so bad. I wanted to make my parents proud in heaven. I wanted to make myself proud. I only had three weeks to get it together for the mid-September auditions. Then, if all went well, I would be cast, and perform with Opera Boston. The show would open in October and run until the middle of November. Then I'd sign my contract and dance for the _Nutcracker_ with Boston Ballet and that would keep my occupied until the middle of January. But it was the Opera I was looking forward to most. If I got a solid part it would open up a whole new type of career for me. I had performed with Opera Boston once before in my Freshman year, but it was a small role that was organized in conjunction with a class I was taking. I mostly acted as a supernumerary, hardly any dancing at all, and no lines or singing whatsoever.

Resumé building was vital for me, especially now that I was out of school. And I needed to be constantly in some production. I wasn't going to waste all the dance lessons and classes my parents bought for me, even when they were struggling themselves.

Before long I had walked out of Beacon Hill into the busier streets in the center of Boston, next to the impressive mirror-glass Hancock Building, and finally back into the quiet historic South End streets where the studio was located. I got into the building and headed down into Studio One where I was practicing. I had another long hard afternoon ahead of me. My body was still sore and readjusting to the life of a ballerina. I cleared my mind as I put on my shoes and started to stretch out. I couldn't think about my parents right now. I didn't want to think about my impending conversation with Randall. So I just focused on dancing.

**A/N: Please R & R! This is my very first time writing anything that isn't academic, so I appriceate reviews...but please, don't say I suck or anything. Constructive criticism is, of course, very welcome-- so I guess you can tell me "I suck" if it's done eloquently. As I tell people, you may call me anything you want, it just needs to be at least three syllables long. **


	4. Conversations and Tea

**Chapter 3: Conversations and Tea**

Although I had been dancing for almost three hours, it felt like a matter of minutes. On my good dancing days, I would get into this zone where nothing else mattered except how my body was moving, and how I controlled myself. On these occasions, time always flew by. Dancing takes amazing self discipline. Often that is what makes or breaks someone's career or shot at making auditions.

Today had been a good day of rehearsal. I was still sore, but for the first time since I had gotten back into it, I felt entirely focused. I looked around the room at the other dancers, many of the girls I had known all through college, and who were all trying to make it as a dancer like I was. The studio we rehearsed in was really nice-- a large room, basement level, so it was a bit cooler. It was bright, well lit, and had a soft, but sturdy floor. On three of the walls were permanent bars for practice and helped with balance. The remaining wall contained a tall row of mirrors to watch ourselves as we danced and helped to keep our focus up. Nothing is worse than a dancer who looks at her toes. In the corner of the room by the door was a Steinway upright piano for live accompaniment. A lot of people used the studio to practice singing, dancing, or playing when it was empty.

While everyone was getting ready to leave, I hung back a bit, taking more time than was necessary to take off my shoes and pull my street clothes back on. I pretended to fuss with my bag until I noticed everyone else had left the room except for me and my instructor, Mrs. Giry. I had known her for several years now, and could always count on her to be honest about my performance. Her critiques were not sugar coated in anyway.

"Mrs. Giry?" I asked hesitantly to get her attention. She looked up and noticed me standing behind her through the mirrors.

"Oh, Christine! You're still hanging around. I thought everyone had left."

"I wanted to ask you about something... I have an audition coming up soon, for Opera Boston..." I started.

"Oh, yes-- _Hannibal_, is it? I seem to recall reading about it in _The Globe_. Going to be quite the production from what they're planning, I hear."

"Exactly. They're looking for the best--dancers and singers," I edged forward. I knew what I wanted to ask her, but was afraid of what she might say. As if reading my mind, she interjected--

"And you want to know if I think you can make it?" she smiled.

"Well... in a nutshell, yes," I gave a nervous half chuckle.

"Christine, I have seen you dance for the past few years. You are a beautiful dancer. You have all the technique, by far some of the best I've seen. You just seem to lack some of the heart. Now, not all the time. Sometimes, when you dance I can see how much you mean it, how much you want it. You dance as if there is a fire in you. Such as today. Other times, you seem empty, devoid of the emotion, as if you are lost. I won't presume to know what causes this change. I know about your past, with your parents...but I don't think that is entirely it." She paused, as if thinking about how to continue.

"Don't lose the fire, Christine. Let it burn in you every time you dance, whether it is here in the studios, on the grandest stage in the world, or even in your own bedroom. Draw it out of you, from the inside. Kindle it with your passion."

"So, light my fire, and I'll be in _Hannibal_?" She laughed at the way I trivialized her speech, but she knew I had understood what she said.

"In your manner of speaking-- yes. As far as dancing is concerned, I think you will blow them away. You get better and better every year. You just need to keep confidence in yourself. Remember, if your face doesn't reveal your errors, no one will notice."

"I think that only works for little girls in recitals, not for women who are doing the biggest auditions of their life!"

Mrs. Giry smiled warmly. "You will be fine, Christine. If you want, you can reserve this space for private rehearsal time at night. There is hardly anyone here that late, so no roommates or boyfriends to distract you."

_Boyfriends! Shit!_ I thought to myself. By clearing my mind before I began dancing, I almost had forgotten about my meeting with Randall. And all at once I felt like I had a much bigger worry on my hands than the audition. I quickly ended my conversation with Mrs. Giry.

"That's a great idea, Mrs. Giry. I'll check my schedule at the BPL and see what nights I want the space. But, right now I've really got to run. I forgot I have to be somewhere sooner than I really want to be there." I started to move toward the door.

"Alright, Christine. Just let me know and I will put your name on the list. I'll also come up with a list of some extra things you should work on before the audition."

"Thanks! I'll see you later." I moved out into the hallway and turned the corner, flew up the stairs and back down into the lobby. I nodded a quick hello and goodbye to the front desk sitter and headed out into the warm afternoon air.

I had been thinking and planning what I wanted to say to Randall the entire night before. As I started to walk to where we were meeting, I got a wicked case of the nerves. Back-up support was needed. I whipped out my cell phone and dialed Meg as I walked back down Clarendon Street. Luckily she picked up in two rings.

"Hello?"

"Meg! It's Christine. Moral Support needed now!" I cried into the phone.

'Where are you?"

"Just left the studios."

"Headed to speak with Randall?"

"Uh-huh!" My voice had reached a high pitch whine.

"Where are you two meeting exactly, anyway? You never told me."

"Tealuxe. A nice safe neutral, public place."

"Hmm... a tea bar. Well, at least it's not a real bar. He can't break any beer bottles and come after you if you piss him off too much," she joked.

"Yeah, but chipped porcelain teapots might hurt as well," I laughed. I knew Meg would make me feel better, if not less nervous.

"You will be fine. Don't worry. Just be firm, and stick to it. You need to make yourself happy too, you know," she advised.

"I know. I know. I'm just freaked out. I haven't had much experience with this sort of conversation." And that much was true. I'd only had one boyfriend in high school, and it was hardly serious at all. I had only been 14. I think I had dumped him online. Way classy, I know.

"Just be strong. And try not to laugh when he breaks down into tears. It will kill the mood."

"More like when I break down into tears! I'm too sensitive... Anyway, I'm at Boylston now, so I'll be there in like one minute. Wish me luck!"

"You know you have it. Either way, we'll do a chick movie night tonight and gorge ourselves on Ben & Jerry's."

"Alright, Phish Food," I ordered.

"You know it!" And with a chuckle she was gone. I put my phone back into my purse just as I got to the corner of Clarendon and Newbury Street where Tealuxe was located. It was a great little cafe that had some pretty good sandwiches and other small items. But it's main thing, as if the name didn't give it away, was tea. They had a menu with maybe fifty (or more!) different teas. It usually took me ten minutes to decide which one I wanted. Everyone got there own personal little teapot and cup, and when the waitress brought out your drinks, she would set a little plastic sand hourglass, like from a board game, on your table. When the timer was up, your tea was ready to drink. It was really quite charming.

During the summer and warmer weather, the tea bar had a tiny fenced in area outside in front with small metal cafe tables so people could sit outside to eat, drink, and people watch. It was one of my favorite places to go. It was at one of these outdoor tables that I spotted Randall's golden blonde head of hair from behind. He was wearing an expensive looking outfit-- dark black dress pants with a navy blue button down shirt, and matching tie. His briefcase was sitting beside him, leaning up against his chair. He had obviously just come from work.

I came up behind him and put my hand on his shoulder, and he instantly jumped, startled by my touch.

"Jumpy, aren't we?" I said dryly.

"Christine! God, you scared me, don't sneak up on me like that!" he snapped.

"Well, who were you expecting? You're acting totally paranoid," I tried to say it nonchalantly, but inside I was so damn curious as to why he kept acting the way he had been. If he would just be honest with me, things would be so much easier.

"No one... I'm fine. You just startled me." He stood to greet me, and immediately came in to give me a quick kiss on the lips. I turned my head so that he landed on my cheek. I couldn't make this harder for either of us. We both sat down, and the waitress, on noticing my arrival, came to get my order.

"Just some Earl Grey, please," I said confidently. I couldn't be bothered with my usual ordeal of trying to select a new and exciting tea.

"Wow-- that's some strong stuff," Randall stated.

"I'm exhausted from dancing, plus Meg woke me up early this morning as she was getting ready for work. The joys of living with a teacher. I just need a little pick-me-up," I explained.

"Meg. And how is the black-haired beauty these days?"

"Oh, you know Meg. Always perky, always cheerful. She has to be to work with kids."

"She sounded pretty irritated when I've spoken with her over the phone the past week," he countered. I wondered if he said that to point out my obvious phone avoidance. So I tested him.

"Well, I think she's been irritated that our phone has been ringing nonstop." The gates were open, and we were officially off. A lot sooner than I had hoped.

"Christine, about the past week-" he started, but I cut him off.

"Randall, before you say anything, just hear me out..." It was now or never. I wanted to at least have some civil conversation, but things just started moving too fast.

Last night, as I had been planning possible conversation scenarios, I had completely planned on just breaking up with Randall, one-hundred percent. It wasn't some new revelation I had just gotten. I had been wanting to break up last year. Or at least I had thought about it then as well. But, it was like every time I tried, I got scared. I couldn't do it. And so we stayed together.

Today I had been ready to launch into my break up speech. The whole "let's be friends" bit, the good old "I'm just so worried about you" drama, the "you can't even be honest with me" accusations. I wanted him to tell me what was going on, to be honest with me. But I didn't want to be his girlfriend anymore.

But as I looked at him sitting across from me, looking sad, bewildered, and scared... I just couldn't do it. _You really are too sensitive, Christine,_ I scolded myself. The expression on his face was too much for me. I couldn't dump him, not entirely anyway.

"Do you want to break up with me?" He looked incredulous. It was my turn to be startled by him, by what he said. _How was everyone reading my thoughts today?_

"No, Randall. I...I don't know. I just think... I just feel like it would be best if we took some time off from each other." It was the half truth. I wanted to take some time off...just permanently.

"Is there someone else? Is that why you've been avoiding me? Have you met someone else?" He was almost shouting. I nervously looked at the other patrons around us.

"No, it isn't anyone else." _It's you!_ "You've just been so mysterious lately, Randall. I don't know what to think. You won't even me honest with me when I ask you what's wrong."

"It's nothing, Christine. I'm just tired."

"Is it something at work? Is something wrong in your office?" I probed...maybe I would get something out of him after all. My previous conversation planning came back into my head.

"My office?" He laughed, but it was such a bitter laugh. I didn't know how to interpret it. "Work is... I just...I can't tell you, okay, Christine? Can we just leave it?"

"Fine, keep it to yourself! Don't you see? This is why I think we should take some time apart. You obviously don't trust me enough--"

He cut me off. "I _do_ trust you enough! And care about you enough to just not involve you with it."

"Is something really wrong, Randall? Are you in some sort of trouble? If you can't tell me, who can you tell?"

"No one, and that's the point."

I paused for a few moments, then began again. "Whatever, Randall. I think a little separation will do us a world of good. I've got my own shit to worry about. But I won't burden you with it, since you can't _or won't_ even give me the same courtesy." I was pissed now.

But he got that hurt look in his eyes again, and I wondered if I had gone to far.

"Do you...do you want to see other people?" he asked hesitantly.

I sighed. "No, I don't." That also wasn't entirely a lie. "I think we just need to be apart for awhile. You obviously have stuff going on in your life you don't want me a part of-- _And-" _I started before he could interrupt- "I have a huge audition coming up that I really need to focus on. I just need some time where I won't feel guilty for not returning your calls, or for not being with you all the time. We just need space. Let's just wait awhile, okay? Maybe in awhile we can both work some things out together. But right now, I just want to be on my own."

He looked at me, completely dejected. But he sighed, and I knew I had gotten my point across.

"Maybe...maybe we should. I mean, I know how important your dancing is and stuff. I don't want to bog you down. Just as long as we could be a couple again..." he trailed off.

"Randall, like I said-- I don't want to date the next guy who comes along. I don't have some guy waiting in the wings. I just need some time to seriously think about us. And we'll go from there, alright?"

"Alright," he agreed, if somewhat reluctantly. We were silent for awhile, drinking our respective teas, knowing that after this moment, when we left, nothing would be the same between us again. I could tell he didn't want to be the first to leave, to end what we had. So I made the move.

I started to reach into my bag to get some money out to pay, but Randall stopped me.

"No, Christine. Let me get this okay? Just for one last time."

_Don't break down, don't break down. Do what Meg said, stay firm._

"Randall, it won't be the last time. This isn't the end. I just need time and space." I lied to him, I could lie to myself too and maybe start to believe the things I said.

He seemed to finally give in, and didn't try to stop me as I stood up to leave.

"Just, call me sometimes, okay, Chris? I want to know how the audition goes."

"I will," I promised. "I hope you work out whatever has been getting to you. I hate seeing you like this." And I did. "Goodbye, Randall."

"Goodbye." He kissed me on the cheek, not even bothering to go for the lips this time. I appreciated the gesture.

I gathered up my things and began to walk out of the seating area and onto the main sidewalk. I crossed the street, continuing to head down Clarendon. Just before he was out of sight, I took one last look back at Randall, still standing there awkwardly at the table. I smiled and gave a small wave, then turned again to walk home and relay the afternoon to Meg.


	5. Research

**Chapter 5: Research**

Phase one of his work was almost complete. The research phase. Erik needed to first learn every thing he possibly could learn about his given target, Randall Chagny. Chagny's situation was typical to what Erik had already been paid to deal with in the past-- nice boy begins as an intern at a powerful finance firm. Boy moves up on the ladder and gets promoted to Junior Financial Analyst, begins handling and organizing more and more important documents. Boy notices something wrong...funds missing, documents missing, documents changed. He begins to get suspicious. Does some digging, and learns that company presidents have been embezzling funds into personal accounts.

Yes, Randall Chagny's story was typical for Erik. At least Chagny hadn't gone to the police as some others had, and would, in his situation. Some of the money that had gone astray had been Chagny's own doing before he realized, too late, what was going on under his own nose. The presidents of Smith & Associates had been holding this card over Chagny's head. Chagny had proven to be easily manipulated, for the time being anyway. But the bosses had decided he needed to be taken care of all together, and thus hired Erik. Once the "problem" was gone, they would soon hire a new up-and-coming intern who would find themselves in the same position as Chagny. And if Erik weren't "retiring" after the Chagny job was done, he was sure they would call him again for another job.

Erik stared at the computer screen, again going over the information that was in front of him. The company always sent out preliminary research--family names, phone records from the office or company cell phones, and other personals. He had spent an entire week researching and studying extra information not only on the Chagny boy, but also on his family and friends. In a job such as this, it was not enough to study the main target. Often, good hearted, but nervous and scared people would involve their loved ones or close friends. So, Erik had to be certain that he studied all aspects of the boy's life, leaving no loose ends behind.

It was amazing how much Erik could discover through a simple Google search or through the use of some other online search engine or program. Randall Chagny only had a few other concerns surrounding his life, other people Erik needed to investigate-- their lives and their knowledge of the information Chagny himself possessed. First, Erik looked to the parents. Mr. Chagny had been instrumental in getting his son the job in the first place. _Hell, maybe he already did know what type of business Smith & Associates ran, _Erik mused.

The parents were currently living on the West Coast... and if anything, it looked like contact between them and their son had diminished over the past few months. Hardly any phone calls, and all eMails to his family from his office were devoid of any type of frantic or damning information. A promising sign, but Chagny was hopefully smarter than to send an eMail such as that over the company network. But Erik had encountered some pretty unintelligent employees over the years who did just that, thereby screwing the lives of their nearest and dearest.

Erik next looked to Randall Chagny's older brother, Philip. He didn't seem to be much of a threat either. He was currently living abroad in Europe with his girlfriend Layla Sorelli. It appeared as if the two brother's had barely had any contact at all, no phone calls, no eMail. Perhaps they had had a falling out? He would have to look into that more, but for now it also did not seem to present a problem.

Finally, Erik looked towards Chagny's girlfriend. It seemed the girlfriend would be the most trouble, as they always were. Men rarely complained to or informed their parents and family of work related problems, especially problems that could lead to jail or worse. They almost always told a spouse, or significant other, most likely when it was a long term relationship. Which is what Chagny seemed to have with Christine DuBois. And within the past month, phone calls had increased to her home, almost at an alarming rate. That was a definite warning sign for Erik. If Chagny was calling this girl so much, Erik figured he better get a phone tap on both lines to see exactly what these calls were about.

Erik did a quick search online for "Christine DuBois Boston" and came up with a surprising number of hits, all involved with the performing arts of some type. She apparently was very active with Boston Ballet and the Conservatory of Arts. _A dancer...was she also a singer?_ Erik wondered to himself. Time would tell. The search also showed some contact information for her on the website-- the Boston Public Library, so she must work there as well. He changed his search to an image search and found a picture that looked like it was a head shot out of a program. It was only in black and white, but he could tell how beautiful the girl was. He had to admit to himself he was slightly intrigued by this girl, a younger dancer involved with a finance man like Randall Chagny...it seemed out of place. But stranger things were known to happen.

Erik saved all of the information he had found. His main focus was going to be on Randall and Christine. He needed to know more about her involvement with Randall's problems, and he would not be able to find that out online just yet. His first priority was to put a bug on their phone lines and hack into their personal eMails. It would not be difficult. Then he would trace them, and figure out the next step in his plan. Most jobs were typical though, and he was sure it would all be over soon if things went smoothly. And they always went smoothly for Erik.

He looked at the image of Christine DuBois one last time. Generally Erik was very passive and detached from his work. A few times in the past, when he had first started this line of work, he had almost slipped, had almost begun to feel sorry for his victims. But it had faded with time and experience. However... there _was_ something about _this_ girl's image. Something familiar, something warm that he couldn't quite shake. He couldn't place what it was. But it was there.

He shook his head as he shut down the computer.

_No, not this time, _he thought. Nothing would interfere with getting this job done and earning the peace he so desperately craved.

**A/N: This chapter was so hard to write. I'm not sure why...writer's block I guess? And I'm terrible with Erik chapters. All two of them now, right? But I wrote this, then went trick-or-treating in Beacon Hill (full-sized candy bar from John Kerry's wife!--and yeah I'm 21, so who cares :-P ) then came back and reread and edited it. I think it came out okay.**

**Please Review! I LOVE the reviews. They help so much! More ahead, read on! **


	6. Phantom of the Library

**Chapter 5: Phantom of the Library**

It had been two and a half weeks since Randall and I had broken up. _Well, you didn't exactly break up, Christine. And who's fault is that? Completely all your own. _That nagging voice inside my head was really getting to me. I had been thinking about Randall a lot over the past two weeks since our talk at Tealuxe.

I knew getting some space apart was the right decision, and I think he knew it too, but I couldn't get over how I had chickened out of breaking it off all together. Maybe I didn't because a part of me did not really want to end things completely. I mean, we had been together for such a long time, I hardly knew anything else. And even though I had been avoiding him a few weeks earlier, now I found myself missing him. _But if you go back, things will just be the same as they were. He's hiding something from you. Can you be with someone who isn't honest? _

It was a daily battle these two sides of my mind fought. And neither side was winning. I felt like I was in such a state of limbo. At least Randall had been true to his word-- he had given me space. Gone were the frantic everyday calls. I know I would have caved if he had just dug into me a little harder with guilt or had been looking for sympathy. But he stayed away. In fact, he had only called me once in the whole time, just a few days ago--

**X X X**

I was rehearsing late in the studio at Boston Ballet when my cell phone rang. I was just beginning to make sense of the sheet music all dancers were supposed to audition with. It was just a simple chorus section from the opera, but even simple was daunting for me. But learning to play it was half the battle to learning to sing it on my own.

My phone kept ringing, and I saw it was Randall calling. He hadn't called me or contacted me at all for the past two weeks, so I thought maybe something was wrong, and that maybe he was finally going to admit something was wrong. But I was mistaken.

"Hey, Christine."

"Randall, hi..." I trailed off uncertainly.

"Don't worry, nothing is wrong. I just called to say 'hi.'" _Was that good or bad?_ both sides of my mind asked. For the moment, the anti-Randall side won out.

"Oh, well, hey. I'm sort of working on my audition stuff right now..." I said hesitantly, trying to give him a hint.

"Oh, yeah, right...the audition. When is it again?" At least he sounded somewhat interested, but that distracted edge to his voice was still disappointingly present.

"Next week. I'm getting so nervous, honestly! This singing is going to be the death of me. It will be a miracle if I get cast."

"Do you really think you won't?" he asked.

"Well... my dancing is the best it has ever been. Mrs. Giry says as far as that goes I'm perfect. It's really just a matter of the singing. Which... is kind of what I am working on right now..." Again with the hint.

"Oh, right. Yeah, well, I can let you go. Just wanted to check in. Good luck with the audition. You'll be great, I know it. Remember to let me know how it goes, regardless, okay?"

"I promise I'll let you know first thing," I told him.

"Great...well, take care of yourself... and... Well, be safe, okay, Christine? Just watch out for yourself. Be careful." And with that he hung up.

_Be safe? Be careful?_ I couldn't figure out what that was supposed to mean...if it was supposed to mean anything! I had relayed the conversation to Meg when I got home that night. She figured it wasn't anything to over analyze.

"You know how he's so overprotective of you. He always has been. He just likes to think of himself as your knight-in-shinging-armor, or whatever. So, he's just not around right now and is probably worrying about you walking alone down the dark streets at night," Meg theorized.

"You're probably right. But it was such a creepy way to end a conversation! I mean, seriously...he didn't even really say goodbye."

Meg laughed. "Wouldn't you rather have a creepy conversation ender, than like have him breaking down in tears, begging you take him back?"

"I suppose," I smiled, but it still left me a bit uneasy.

**X X X**

I was still feeling uneasy as I recalled the conversation again in my mind four days after. I was at work, getting the library ready for close. I loved working until close because the library was so quiet at night and there generally weren't a lot of people around. There were always the 'regulars,' the people who were at the library every night this late. Generally it was mostly students studying and cramming in those last precious library hours. A few other people hung out late, doing research on this or that. And some who just came, started a good book, couldn't put it down and lost track of the time. I generally had to stop them to let them know the library was closing. I hated that part of the job, interrupting someone in the middle of a good book. But, it was a library and needed to close. Plus, it wasn't like they couldn't take the book home.

It was 8:30, and the library was closing in thirty minutes. In the last half hour or so of my job, I generally re-shelved books, cleaned up, and made sure things were in order for the start of the next day. It was certainly the quietest part of my job, and so the department heads I worked for never minded if I listened to some music on my iPod while finishing up.

I finished re-shelving all of the books in the open reserve shelves, and took stock of who was still around. I didn't see anyone, at first, so started to do some general area cleaning to make sure I hadn't missed anything. I picked up a missed book to re-shelve and started to mark some of the dance moves I had been working on as I moved through the aisles, thinking I was alone.

I turned the corner around one of the shelves, and my marking the moves had pretty much turned into full dancing. I had gotten swept up into the music and didn't even realize what I was doing. And of course, it was at that moment I looked out and noticed someone sitting at one of the research tables towards the back. Obviously staring straight at me, his book forgotten to my dancing.

I could feel my cheeks burning and knew they must be turning bright red. _How embarrassing!_ Despite being a good dancer, I must have looked like an idiot dancing away through the stacks, holding a book in my hand. The face saving part of my mind told me to quickly turn and leave the scene of the crime. But I knew I had to tell this patron we were closing in ten minutes. So I gathered as much pride as I could and walked over to him, my cheeks still burning.

I had never noticed this man before, and I'm sure I would have remembered him. He was smartly dressed; his clothes made him appear quite wealthy. His skin was very pale, and he had amazingly long fingers and graceful looking hands. He had such an aura of commanding power, while being aloof at the same time, and although I had just encountered him and didn't know him at all, he seemed so out of place for a public library at nine o'clock at night.

However, what I immediately noticed was the gleaming white mask, and his dark, expressive eyes staring at me from behind it. The mask, although somewhat odd, wasn't off putting at all. It was as if it fit him perfectly, like without it he wouldn't be a whole person, wouldn't be the being that he was. There was something downright attractive about him overall and I couldn't help just staring at him because of it and felt that stupid girlish flutter in my stomach that can cause so much anguish. His gaze up close made me blush even more.

"Excuse me, sir. . . but we're about to close in ten minutes." He just continued to stare at me. "Uhh. . . . I'd be happy to re-shelve your book for you if your done. Unless you want to check it out. In which case, you can keep it," I said awkwardly. How dumb did I have to make myself sound after looking so stupid?

He kept looking right into my eyes, then said in one of the most beautiful and musical voices I had ever heard--

"Of course, Christine."

I stared at him, dumbfounded. "How do you know... my name?"

He never broke his gaze with mine, but lifted that graceful hand with a casual gesture and pointed at my chest. . . . directly at my standard BPL employee name tag.

_Hello, Christine? Stupid, of course he can read your name right there._ He had me so flustered and acting like a 12 year old girl!

I laughed, embarrassed again and said, "Oh. . . yeah right, name tag. Of course."

He smirked at me as I blushed even redder. So much for good first impressions.

**A/N: An update! I'm glad some of you like my "Erik" chapter formula. I like it too, although once he and Christine become more buddy-buddy... it probably won't be the same, because he'll be around more, obviously! But those chapters will then be from Christine's POV, as usual. **

**Thank you SO MUCH to my loyal reviewers, and to you other readers-- hello? Review:-) You can even tell me you hate it, whatever, just give some feedback. As always, my email is open. **

**Enjoy!**


	7. Singing in Shadows

**Chapter 6: Singing in Shadows**

I officially started to _completely_ freak out three days before my audition. My mind was consumed with nothing but thoughts of the fast approaching day that would either make-me or break-me. I needed to win a part so desperately, not just for money's sake, but also to prove something to myself, and to everyone in my life.

I wanted Mrs. Giry to see me succeed at something huge. She had been training me for several years, and had seen me star in smaller roles and recitals, but I wanted her to see me achieve something great. Even a small roll as a dancer and chorus member in such a large production was quite an accomplishment. And I wanted her to see--to _know_-- that she helped put me there, up on that stage.

I wanted Meg to be proud of me. She had watched me dance my whole life, and had put up with me canceling plans and 'girls-night-outs' so that I could remain rehearsing longer. She had helped me carry my books to class in high school when I broke my foot when I landed poorly from a leap. I had been on crutches for weeks, and she patiently helped me with everything and even put up with listening to me complain about how I couldn't dance.

I even wanted Randall to see me succeed. I wanted to show him that I could make it on my own, that I was a girl who knew how to get what she wanted in life by herself. No attachments necessary!

But most of all, I wanted my parents to be proud of me. Wherever they were. I imagined them in Heaven or some other celestial place, looking down on me, watching my progress everyday. I knew they would be happy, because I was happy. Or at least I would be when I got the part.

"If I get the part, it's all because of you two," I said to myself in the mirror one afternoon. "I just wish you could be there on opening night. If anything you could at least take me out for a free dinner after the show," I smiled slightly. That had always been our tradition after every opening night. Opening night cast parties be damned, the DuBois family spent the evenings together in celebration.

It was Thursday, late afternoon, when Meg caught me singing to myself in the kitchen. Auditions were Saturday. I had stopped rehearsing the dance so hardcore because I didn't want to wear myself out. I stretched out everyday and did a few simple bits, but I found that if I danced too much, I would just become sloppy. And since I felt my audition would be carried on my dancing ability alone, I could not afford to be off.

So for now, I was singing every spare moment. I tried to remember exercises my mom had taught me when I was younger, and practiced with those. I had even enlisted the help of a girl, Tatum, in one of my dance classes who was a singer. She was auditioning as well on Saturday, but as a main chorus roll, not a dancer. She gave me some pointers and a CD with some vocal warm-ups to practice.

"Sounds good!" Meg said cheerfully.

"I wish. I'm going to choke."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Christine. First of all, you are obviously an amazing dancer. How many more times do I have to feed you that particular compliment?" She smiled at me, no hint of any real annoyance. "And second, you are not the terrible singer you think you are. I mean seriously, do you even remember who your mother was? You're great! In fact, you have a beautiful voice. Just untrained and all. I could never understand why you didn't become a singer. You could be amazing. Maybe even better than you are at dancing," she said matter-of-factly.

"Oh, sure. I can see myself now-- quit dancing entirely to pursue my singing career. Giving up the one thing I'm good at to do the one thing I'm bad at. Very practical!"

"You're not bad. You just have no confidence, and that messes you up every time you try singing. You had to work hard to be a fabulous dancer. You have natural singing talent. It's just in your blood, silly! So learn to deal," Meg gave a small chuckle.

"Maybe you're right. I just get so nervous, Meg! I know I'll blow it on Saturday."

"I thought the role you were going for was mostly dancing?" she asked.

"It is, but again, they sort of want to the full package. I have to do everything. Although, hopefully they can let my vocals slide a bit. I hope they're forgiving."

"I have every faith in you. Besides, you get like this before _every_ audition you have ever done. And I have always said the same things. And you always get the part. I wonder when you will start listening to me and begin to realize what a true genius I am!" Meg quipped.

"Of course. You are the mastermind behind my career. I'll try to stop stressing so much," I promised.

"Great! And what a better way to start this stress-free lifestyle than by coming out with me tonight," Meg offered.

"I can't, not tonight. And the reason is completely non-audition related. I have work tonight until close at the library."

"I suppose I can let it slide. But Sunday, we are going out! I give you freedom until then," she smiled and headed to her room. And I continued singing.

**X X X**

The library was pretty empty for a Thursday night. Usually there were more students studying for their Friday classes and tests, but it was relatively clear. Which worked out for me. On my final book re-shelving rounds, the section was empty, and I practiced some more of my singing scales. I thought I was getting better, at least more confident, and I hoped my mind wasn't playing tricks on me.

"You have perfect pitch," said a flowing voice behind me. "But your timbre needs a bit of work. . . . as does your confidence, I take it."

I turned around and was surprised to see the masked man once more.

"I didn't think anyone was there to hear me. I'm sorry if I disturbed you," I apologized immediately.

"It is never a disturbance to hear a beautiful voice," he said, and must have noticed the disbelief on my face because he answered my silent denials. "Beautiful, but unguided."

I smiled and blushed a little. "Yeah. I've been getting that a lot lately. . . . do you know a lot about singing?"

"I am well acquainted with music. . . .and singing. But you-- you are a dancer," he stated simply. It was not a question. "And a singer, if you wanted to be, Christine."

He fluidly handed me a book and turned to leave all at one moment. His movements were so perfect, it was like a dance to music only he could hear. I barely had time to register what he had said, or even realize we had had somewhat of a brief conversation at all.

"Thank you!" I tried calling out, but he had already disappeared.

I looked down at the book he had given to me, thinking he had just wanted me to re-shelf something for him. But the title caught my eye. _The Prima Donna's Album_. I flipped through the pages of arias and sheet music. Who was this guy, anyway? And did he actually think I could sing any of these? The way he had spoken about my singing, it made me feel like I almost could sing them. Meg had pretty much told me the same things earlier in the day.

But from his mouth, and his voice, I started to think I actually could sing, and maybe even sign well! He obviously knew something about music and singers from the descriptions he gave on my voice. It was odd, but suddenly I wanted to prove _him_ right as well. I didn't even know his name, or anything about him. Our two meetings had been so short, it was almost as if he didn't really exist. He was like some sort of ghost or phantom--there one moment, and gone the next, as if I were just making him up in my mind.

But something in his words were more comforting than anyone else's at the moment-- a stranger's outside perspective often is. I flipped through the songs one last time.

"I wish," I sighed as I got back to work.

**A/N: Another chapter done. I'm not sure about it. I'm having trouble figuring out the order of things in my head. I've thought a ton about the ending of my story, I just need to focus on getting there. I was planning on making this one longer, but felt like it was a good stopping point. **

**Okay, review! I love them! And enjoy the reading. **


	8. A Name At Last

**Chapter 7: A Name At Last**

I left the library that night with a slight smirk on my face that stayed with me all the way back to my apartment. I had actually decided to check out the book my new mysterious friend, if I could call him that, had handed me as well as another book on opera singing and its history. I realized they wouldn't be that helpful for my impending audition, but hopefully they would be interesting and put me into an operatic-mood.

I decided to walk home instead of taking the subway. There wasn't a close T-stop near my apartment anyway, so either way I chose, I would have had to do some walking. The night was very mild and clear, the perfect sort of evening to walk and think.

I thought about the two books riding in my bag, and thought more about the masked man in the library. It felt weird thinking about him as "the masked man," but what else could I really call him? I didn't know his name, where he was from, or what he was doing so late at the library for the past two nights.

The first time I saw him, he hadn't really been reading, just watching me. Of course, I had been making a fool out of myself, so no shock there. I probably would have stared at a girl dancing through the stacks, too. But the second time, that very night, he had come to me, gone out of his way to give me a book. A book on opera arias. How had he known I was auditioning for an opera? Did he know or was it some strange coincidence?

I wasn't sure whether to feel nervous or excited. On one hand, it was almost like he knew me too well. Maybe I was being way too paranoid. Or way too hopeful. He wasn't exactly creepy the way some strange and random men could be. Quite the opposite in fact. There was something about him that was very comforting, even alluring. Certainly alluring enough that he had made me blush so much on both encounters.

I couldn't stop thinking about him!

"You're like a school girl with a crush, Christine," I joked to myself as I rounded the corner on my street. "And just as pathetic!"

Well, there certainly wasn't anything wrong with a little one-sided crush on a stranger. Besides, he seemed to have some sort of interest in me, even though I couldn't quite figure out what it was just yet. Our brief, barely one minute, conversation had certainly boosted my confidence. For the first time all week I wasn't channeling all of my worry on the audition. I almost felt like for once I would succeed. And it was all due to what he said, like he knew what I needed to hear, even if it was only a few short words.

My new, mysterious friend.

"Maybe even a guardian Angel," I mused with a smile.

I was still smiling as I walked into the apartment. Meg was up and in the living room browsing through the channels, trying to find something worth watching on the television.

"Wow, you're actually smiling!" Meg observed, and after a short deliberation asked, "Okay, who's the new guy? Or is it the old guy? Did you just see Randall?" Her attack of questions left me momentarily speechless.

"What? One at a time, Meg. I just got out of work."

"Jobs are a great place to meet guys!" she announced.

"Yes, the good old library, such a hot spot for dating activity. Honestly, I think you need to find your own guy."

"I'm constantly on the look out! Believe me," she said with an impish look in her eyes. "But seriously, who is your new 'he?'"

"What makes you so sure there _is_ a _he_?" I questioned.

"I know that look on a girl's face. I especially know that look on _your_ face. So don't even lie to me," she smiled with a wicked grin. "Been making out in the stacks? Huh?"

That I had to laugh at.

"No. . . . However, if you must know, yes, I have met a guy, sort of. BUT-- it's not what you think. In fact, I've barely spoken to him at all. Mostly just blushed," I cringed at the memory, then added, "Plus, he disappears quickly. Like, one minute there, the next he's hurried off and is gone."

"So. . . .you're so terrifying, the thought of being around you makes him run away screaming in horror?"

My response to that was to kindly throw a couch pillow at Meg's head.

"He's just sort of. . . very mysterious. But mysterious in a good 'tall-dark-handsome-stranger' sort of way," I paused, thinking to myself. I wondered if I should mention the mask to Meg. She would either think it was terribly interesting, like out of some fantasy, or find it downright creepy and weird, like out of a horror movie.

I did find the mask a little odd myself. But I wasn't stupid or naive. I figured it must be hiding something, scars or burns maybe. I mean, most people didn't walk around with masks covering half their faces for no reason.

I had known a kid briefly in high school who had had surgery on his face to remove a tumor. It left part of his cheek sunken in. He was pretty self conscience about it, and he thought it was way worse than it really was in reality. He later had plastic surgery, so by the time we graduated, he looked no different from anyone else.

I was pretty sure my masked friend was the same-- way too paranoid or self conscience, when it was probably nothing bad at all. Maybe he was just embarrassed or had had a bad experience in the past. It would explain why he was hanging out so late in an almost empty library, away from other people.

Meg brought me back to reality as always.

"Dark, mysterious, and handsome. Sounds perfect! Go for it," she coached me on.

"We'll see. Again, I think in total I've spoken to him for maybe two minutes. Plus, both times were preceded by me acting like an idiot, so he probably just feels sorry for me."

"Hey, well, if you're not interested, I am! I'll be by tomorrow night!" she joked.

"I don't think so. Mystery Man is all mine for the time being. Besides, he seems to not like being around other people. He's always caught me when I'm alone working."

"Hmm...I wonder why he would possibly want to be _alone_ with _you_," she raised her eyebrow suggestively.

"Right, I'm sure! I don't even know his name yet!" I fired back.

"Perfect! Than your homework is to find that out. It will force you to, you know, actually speak to him. And try not to look like an idiot this time. That always helps."

"Thanks for that wonderful, completely not obvious advice. I'll work on it," I smirked and went to my room for the rest of the night.

Once in my room, I pulled out the opera books, my mind still on the man and his final words to me.

_And a singer, if you wanted to be. . . ._

Well, it wasn't a question of _want_, that was for sure.

I opened the book of arias and read the music as best as I could.

"What do you think, mom?" I questioned a silent photograph sitting on my dresser. My mother smiled out at me, frozen in time, in a happier place and moment. "Just think, me-- a ballet-rat turned diva. You're probably rolling in your grave already."

I read the two books for quite a while longer, and finally decided I need rest. I had one more day before the audition, and figured I should get all the rest I needed. As always, my mind drifted as I began to fall asleep. I thought about my parents, the audition, and the masked man and wondered if it was all some sign, like I really had been sent someone to look out after me, my own angel of sorts. It was a comforting thought that carried me off to sleep. . . . . .

When I woke the next morning, it was with renewed energy and confidence. Every morning for the past week I had gotten up feeling sick to my stomach from nerves or stress, probably both. But on Friday morning, things for some reason seemed much better, more positive. It was very cliché, but the sun was shining through my window and it looked like a gorgeous day outside. All I needed were some birds singing on my window sill. However, all I got were city pigeons cooing.

"Eh, close enough," I said with a smile.

I saw the opera books lying on the floor where I had left them the night before, and instantly thought again about the man. Our short encounter the night before was making me still feel great. I had butterflies in my stomach, but they weren't the nervous bad kind. I really hoped I would see him again that night at work, and fortunately that small wish was granted.

I found him sitting in a smaller study room in the older library section. I hardly ever came in here to do my final rounds, but for some reason it didn't really surprise me that he would know to be there, as if he already could tell my schedule.

"Too much work could be unhealthy, Christine," he said to me in his usual nontraditional greeting.

"Good evening," I said to him regardless, with a slight smile. I was determined not to do anything stupid in front of him this time, and responded to his statement. "Working keeps me occupied and not thinking about other things."

He still looked amazing, impeccably dressed and strong. This time it didn't seem like the conversation was going to be rushed, for which I was grateful. I moved closer to him and studied his face a bit more, trying not to be obvious. For the first time in our brief acquaintanceship, I noticed a few small thin scars running near his mouth, and extending up to where the mask began to cover his face. Otherwise his lips were in perfect form.

I looked back up into his eyes and learned they were a magnificent amber color, almost golden. In the dim light of the library, and buried deep back behind his mask, his irises almost appeared to be glowing. I might have been looking too long because his mouth raised into a small smirk and he continued to speak.

"Have you no friends, no. . . . boyfriend to keep you otherwise occupied on a Friday evening?" I wasn't sure how to exactly interpret his statements, but answered nevertheless.

"One extremely overzealous social friend. But. . . . currently no boyfriend. We broke up several weeks ago. Too much drama, and I need to focus on other things," I explained, even though it wasn't really his business. Why was I telling him all this? I _still _didn't even know his name! Still, for some reason I had just let it come out. And I could tell he was honestly actually listening to me, something Randall, sometimes even Meg, never did.

"How unfortunate," he stated simply, although something in his voice seemed to suggest he didn't really find my circumstances unfortunate at all. Although, neither did I, really. He continued speaking.

"Although, unmarred time is often necessary to devote oneself more fully to another passion."

I shouldn't have been surprised by his incredibly cryptic response, but it still caught me off guard. My face must have shown my utter confusion, because he stood up and wordlessly explained himself by gesturing to the book in my hand.

I looked down and realized I was holding one of the books on opera. I had brought it to work with me to read during my down time sitting at the reference desk and was still carrying it with me through my final rounds.

"Oh, opera, yeah," I said dumbly. Would I ever sound intelligent around this guy? "I guess you sort of inspired me with the other book. Although, I don't think I can sing any of those songs, or will anytime soon," I told him honestly.

"Perhaps you will someday, if you are interested."

"Oh, I am! Well, sort of. I actually have an audition tomorrow. For a dancing position, but I have to sing too," I explained.

"Are you prepared?" he questioned softly.

"I guess. As far as dancing goes, yeah. But. . . . with the singing? I'll be lucky if they don't laugh me off the stage," I chuckled trying to make it sound like less of a deal than it was to me.

In another of his fluid motions, he quickly, but gracefully walked up to me. He was inches away and staring directly into my eyes. I felt my breath catch in my throat, my heart beating in double time, the butterflies flapping their wings as hard as they could in my stomach. The abruptness of his move made me think he was going to strike me, as if I had offended him somehow, but that couldn't have made any sense. Instead he looked at me calmly and spoke so quietly, it was almost a whisper, a slight breath. His voice was low and deliberately slow.

"When you sing. . . . don't think. Just feel, Christine. Clear your mind and sing."

His words were captivating by the mere way he was speaking to me, and the way he said my name was like a soft caress on his tongue. His voice was hypnotizing, and I found myself shutting my eyes. I felt isolated and alone in the world, with just him. I didn't want that moment to be interrupted or end. He spoke to me softly once more giving advice, his words like a song.

"Relax and breathe, from here. Believe that you can do it."

I realized that at some point in his final words he had laid has hand gently on my diaphragm. The touch was unexpected and sent a thrilled shock through my body. At first I didn't know what to say or how to react. Before I could gather my thoughts, he broke his contact with me, ending the spell. I opened my eyes to see him hurrying away again. This time I was not going to let him leave so easily.

"Wait!" I called desperate to stop him. I was surprised when he actually turned around and looked at me with his glowing eyes.

"What is your name?" I asked timidly.

He looked in my direction, but was almost staring through me, as if lost in thought. My strange masked friend seemed to be torn by the very thought of giving me his name.

"Please. . .?" I begged weakly, afraid to upset him. But I had to know.

He gazed into my eyes again and I felt that anxious and nervous, but excited twist in my gut once more.

"Erik," he murmured softly in that beautiful, angelic voice.

I repeated his name to myself in a whisper, and he was gone.

**A/N: Another update, this chapter much longer. Yay! In retrospect, I'm not even sure if I liked my last chapter. It was too short... but it's too late, it's up and done. Hindsight is always 20/20. I'm so much more proud/happy with this one. **

**PLEASE review! I'm not one of those authors who withholds chapters when I don't get reviews, but I do actually take all of them to heart and try to improve/ give you all what you want, based on your comments. It is extremely helpful to me. Also, I'd love to read anyone else's work and review your stuff if you like, just ask. **


	9. Operatic Ambition

**A/N: I should probably state a stupid disclaimer now: Of course I do not own anything related to The Phantom of the Opera. I honestly don't think the original novel has a copyright, considering how many version of it exist out there! So, no worries there. I don't, however, have any claim to ALW's version, or anything found there in, including the opera Hannibal, or it's lyrics, which I have used for this chapter. **

**If you sue one of us, you have to sue all of us, and I don't think you're up for that, Sir ALW. Besides, phan phiction only increases interest in you little play, so I'm actually doing you a favor in profits from ticket and merchandise sales.**

**Chapter 8: Operatic Ambition**

The morning came too soon for me. I had been blissfully asleep, dreaming of myself on the grandest stage in the world, performing for a full, enthusiastic crowd of opera goers. I danced, I sang, and I was fabulous.

At the end of my performance, a multitude of flower bouquets were thrown at my feet. They were large full bunches, many tied with ribbons. Some were surrounded in clear plastic floral wrapping and the lighting shone off of them like groups of mirrors everywhere. It was blinding in its brilliance.

Miraculously, my eyes managed to find one flower in particular. I picked it out from the entire sea of flowers and shiny wrappers-- a single, perfect rose. A rose so dark a red it was practically black.

My dream-self desperately searched the crowd to find any indication of who had thrown this beautiful blossom to my feet. Again, as if by magic, I saw who I immediately knew must be the source of this delicate bud. My eyes were not surprised to find themselves on a man, dressed entirely in black, with a vivid white mask covering his entire face, save for his mouth and chin. Two amber eyes were staring at me, almost on fire.

We locked eyes with each other. The depths of his eyes were endless. I was lost in them. So many silent words were spoken in his gaze. Time and place melted away, and we were alone again, lost once more in a familiar feeling moment that, in my sleeping state, I couldn't place.

Suddenly, an emergency bell rang out through the theatre, killing that comforting moment once more. Chaos broke loose, and the crowd that had disappeared a minute before were now painfully obvious and running about everywhere, trying to escape whatever danger was in the building. I looked to the side to find the cause for panic, and saw nothing but darkness. When I looked back, the masked man was gone, lost in the mass of people running for their lives.

I looked for a way out while still trying to locate my dark friend as the bell kept ringing shrilly onstage. I was soon panicking myself, screaming for someone to help me. The bell kept ringing in my ears, and I shut my eyes, trying to block everything out.

When my eyes opened, it was in reality and I realized the emergency bell that had killed my beautiful moment was, in fact, my alarm clock.

"Must you always ruin my best dreams?" I groggily asked the inanimate clock while punching it into silence.

In my freshly awakened state, it took me a moment to realize what I had just been dreaming about. It wasn't the success or adoration of the masses that brought in early morning smile to my face. It was Erik.

It felt so good, and so much more natural to actually think and refer to him by name. I was still thankful I had been smart enough the night before to actually ask him, instead of being dazed into silence by his once again quick and mysterious departure. I was even more grateful that he seemed to trust me enough to give me his name. Erik definitely did not seem like the all-sharing, "my-life-is-an-open-book" type of person.

I had to laugh when I thought about Meg's reaction the night before when I had shared my newest piece of mysterious stranger news. She was thrilled that I had actually completed her 'guy homework,' and was so excited for me I thought she was acting like Erik gave me a marriage proposal, instead of something as mundane as a name.

But then again, so far with Erik, nothing seemed mundane.

I blushed when I recalled the way he had touched me. It was completely innocent by all accounts and standards. But, still. . . . I had felt this real electricity and feeling behind it. I got chills just thinking about his hand on my body! I knew I had a serious crush, and it actually felt nice.

Unfortunately, I didn't have long to dwell on these new and exciting thoughts and possibilities. My alarm clock snooze timer kicked in, and the world's most hated sound blared throughout my room again. I shut my alarm off for good, and tossed my covers off, getting out of bed. I was convinced if I didn't get up right then, I would lose all my nerve and never would.

It was audition day.

I took a short shower and quickly dried my hair. I threw on a black leotard and began to stretch out. I assumed we would do some sort of warm-up at the auditions, but I still wanted to be as prepared and flexible as possible. Anything I could do to get a slight advantage looked good to me.

I thought about the dance piece I was going to do for my solo audition, and felt confident in it. I had already decided not to run through it before hand. I was not going to gamble or risk hurting myself hours before I had to get in front of directors and producers. So marking it in my head was all I was up for.

I tried eating a small breakfast, but my nerves were too much. I felt like anything I ate, I would throw up, either from being scared or from dancing on a full stomach. I still felt nauseous at the thought of singing, even after what Erik had said to me. I wanted to sing first and get it out of the way, then blow them away with dancing. But then I thought I should dance before the singing auditions so that I could make a good impression first-- start on a positive.

Both scenarios weren't working _or _helping in my mind, so I gave up. After my non-breakfast, I packed my bags, throwing in my pointe shoes, a towel, water bottle, and other dance and audition necessities. And with a few final stretches I headed out the door and made my way towards the theatre.

The Majestic Opera house was located right in the heart of Boston's theatre district. Even though the theatre was built originally in the early 1900s, I remembered reading somewhere that it had recently been restored to its former glory. A lot of theatres in the area had been abandoned or were becoming rundown. It was nice to see such a vital piece of the past still in good use, and I was thrilled at the prospect of being able to perform on its stage.

I arrived at the front doors of the opera house at 8:45am and hesitated slightly. I knew I had a long day ahead of me, but I figured it was then or never, so I pulled open the huge glass door and stepped inside.

The lobby was smaller than what I imagined it would be, but what it lacked in size, it more than made up for it with its style. Everywhere I looked there was gold-- carvings and archways were all covered completely in gold leaf, dim lights shown amber, even the banisters and railings were all a shiny golden brass. Huge mirrors that must have been six or seven feet high lined the back walls of the lobby.

The ornate features around my head were of winged cherubs, hugging the walls. The next things I noticed were the ornate columns, made of a dark red marble, running up to support the golden archways. At the top of each column was the carving of a horned devils face, complete with his tongue sticking out. Three huge beautiful murals covered the ceilings, filled with dancing women, naked in the summer air. I was in complete awe, and just stood there staring at everything around me.

I was pulled from my trance by a rather rude and annoyed looking woman sitting behind a folding table that had been set up the end of the lobby.

"Excuse me, miss, but the lobby is closed today for visitors. Please come back another time to schedule a tour," the woman said in a bored voice that told me she had said the short speech several times already this morning.

"Oh. Umm, well actually I am here for the auditions. This is the correct place, right?" I timidly asked, my small amount of confidence draining even more.

The woman sighed. "Yes, this is the correct place. You need to take one of these forms and fill it out completely," she said as she handed me the paper. "Also, here is your number and audition card. Please use the safety pin and attach it to your clothing as you audition, especially for group numbers. Don't lose it."

"Okay," I said slowly, a little unsure of where I should go next.

"Through the doors, into the theatre. They're starting at nine o'clock, so have everything done by then," the woman answered my silent questions.

_Great, only ten minutes to go,_ I thought to myself.

I walked through the appointed door, and found myself in a carpeted passage way that wasn't quite a hallway, but still obscured my view of the theatre. The only thing to do was to to keep walking.

When I rounded the corner and properly entered the auditorium I was blown away by the picture that awaited me. If I had thought the lobby was impressive, I should have assumed the theatre would be spectacular. And it was.

The auditorium was done completely in crimson and gold. Archways, tapestries, walls-- everything fit into the beautiful color scheme. More carvings were everywhere. This time instead of cherubs and devils, masks and faces stared down at me from overhead, giving me the distinct feeling I was being watched at every angle.

The same dim lights burned all around me, making the gold leaf shine even brighter. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of bulbs ran along the arches over the box seats and lined the fronts of the balconies and the theatre's proscenium.

My eyes turned upward to take in more of the delicate carvings and I found myself beholding the most glorious figure of an angel-- wings spreads, arms lifted to the heavens-- as she supported the second balcony.

The ceiling ran in strips of a lattice pattern in gold with half of the diamonds filled in with a sky blue, while others were filled with carvings of grape bunches. Following the gilded trellises up my eyes rested on the crowning piece of the auditorium-- a giant, twinkling crystal chandelier. I had never seen anything quite like it at all. The light shining through the glass looked like a million diamonds had been bunched together to hang in the air. It was breathtaking.

When my gaze finally turned away from the beauty and opulence of the Majestic's house, I noticed there were actually hundreds of people gathered in the space already. Some were stretching, some vocalizing. Most looked nervous, or tired. I was usually not intimidated by other performers, but I could tell by some of the bodies in the room that these were all serious dancers.

I remembered that I needed to quickly fill out my forms, so I found a seat and began the series of questions before me. It was all fairly standard, asking for my name, height, weight, hair color, eye color, previous experience, any special or formal training, vocal range, scheduling conflicts, and so on. I finished the form, wrote my audition number boldly on the top where it was requested and put my head shot on the top. With the few minutes I had left before everything was to start, I took off my jeans, put on my shoes and stretched out again and practiced a few moves. It looked like some people were still filing in, obviously in a rush afraid of being late. There was a table set up midway in the orchestra seating with some important looking people sitting at it. I figured they were in charge, and they were engrossed in some conversation, probably going over the day's final details.

Satisfied that I had more time to work, I pulled out the sheet music I would have to use for my vocal audition. The first piece was the one dancers were expected to sing, a simple chorus piece in the opera. Simple to most, terrifying, of course, to me. I took a deep breath and tried singing it quietly to myself.

"Did those vocal exercises pay off?" I heard a bright voice speak behind me. I turned around to see Tatum, the girl from my studio whose help I had enlisted in learning how to sing. I had been using the warm-up CD she had lent me all week to practice with.

"Hi, Tatum," I laughed. "I hope they helped, otherwise I think I'm out of luck."

"You'll be great! Just don't let the success go to your head when you become a diva. AND, make sure to remember the little people, like me, who helped you on your way to fame and glory," she said smiling.

"I promise you will be the first person I thank when I receive my 'Lifetime Achievement Award for Opera Singing,' you have my guarantee. So, when are you going?" I asked trying to start up a conversation to temporarily distract my own mind from worrying.

"Well, I'm number 48 for the chorus auditions. Luckily my dance audition won't be as intensive as yours. In fact, as long as I don't trip over my own feet, or step on someone else's, I'll probably make it. Then again, you have seen me in some of my classes, it might be harder than I think!" she laughed at her own joke.

"Well, if I can make it, you surely will. I have every faith in you, as you seem to have in me!"

At that we heard one of the important looking men clear his throat to bring everyone to attention. The auditions were officially on.

"Good morning, good morning, everyone!" the man said enthusiastically. At least so far he seemed like a nice person., although I assumed my opinion would change once he had me in tears by telling me how much I sucked. He continued-

"Welcome to the Majestic Theatre! Hopefully you are all here for the _Hannibal_ auditions. If not, you're probably thinking this is the worst tour you have ever been on!" Several people around me chuckled briefly; I didn't find his joke all that amusing.

"My name is Mr. Reyer, the director of this production for Opera Boston. I'm looking forward to working with you and seeing you all audition. I'd like to take this opportunity to introduce you to a few people you will be seeing today and much more if you are cast. To my far left-"he indicated to the man sitting two down from him- "is Mr. Richard, the company manager. He will be assisting in casting today, mostly with the chorus."

The man, Mr. Richard gave a slight nod to everyone sitting in the house, then, upon recognizing someone he must have worked with in the past, gave a small wave and smirk.

"Next I would like to introduce Ms. Cecile James! She will be our production choreographer and dance captain. She's one of the best, so you dancers know who to look out for!"

I noticed Cecile grimaced slightly as her name was announced, but as he finished she turned to acknowledge the crowd, but instead of a nod she gave a full fledge smile and large hand wave.

"This man, at my immediate left is Mr. Charmin, our musical director and conductor." Another quick nod from the maestro.

"And finally," Mr. Reyer continued, "it is with greatest pleasure that I introduce to you our leading lady for this production. . .our _prima donna_, if you will-- All the way from Italy, La Carlotta!"

Many of the people in the room began to applaud, obviously recognizing the famous La Carlotta. I assumed they must be bigger opera fans than I was, because I had never heard of her. From one of the green plush theatre seats, a woman rose wearing a terribly outrageous outfit. Her dress was long and beaded; it looked like something I would see in a prom-dress reject bin. Around her shoulders was a fur stole that seemed oddly out of place for the warm September weather we were having. A huge monstrosity of what I thought was a hat sat squarely on her head. _If that's what an Opera star has to dress like, count me out!_ I thought with a pang.

La Carlotta just smirked at everyone in the room. You could tell she was sizing everybody up, just _knowing_ that she was better than all of us. And maybe she was, undoubtedly better than I. . . .but that didn't change the fact that I still wished I could slap that smug expression of off her overly made-up face. She finally sat back down after making a smart little curtsey, and Mr. Reyer finished by explaining how the days events would work.

"Alright, ladies and gentleman, now to get down to the business at hand. I know you are all probably anxious and nervous and want to begin the actual audition process, so let me run through the order of it all.

"First, if you are auditioning for a mostly vocal role-- that includes minor and supporting characters and of course the chorus, you will be heading downstairs to a rehearsal hall with Mr. Charmin and Mr. Richard. They will start you through a series of warm-ups and begin auditioning you in the order of your numbers. After you are finished and our dancers are finished with their main auditions, you will learn some quick and very simple dances to make sure you don't have two left feet and won't fall off of the stage during a performance!   
It's a long drop into that orchestra pit, and I doubt Mr. Charmin will appreciate it much!"

More light chuckling from some auditioners followed his hilarious joke.

"Okay, now dancers! You will first be doing your solo audition pieces for myself and Ms. James. Of course the order will be determined by your number. When the solo auditions are done and the vocal auditions are wrapping up, we will be evaluating each dancer and will post a list of those who will continue to phase two. Unfortunately, if you do not make this list, we thank you for your time and encourage you to audition with us again in the future.

"If you make it on to phase two, you will all be split into two groups. One group will go to the rehearsal hall to do your vocal auditions. The other group will be working with Ms. James to learn a group dance. We want to see how quickly you can pick up choreography and how you dance with others. When the two groups are done, they will switch places. At the end of the day, you will all meet back up onstage where we will place you into smaller sections and you will perform the group dance you learned.

"Okay, so, singers, please follow the two men down to the rehearsal hall. Watch your step backstage. Dancers, remain seated in the house until your number is called. When it is, please hand in your audition forms and music before you go up on the stage.

"Thank you everyone, and best of luck to you all!" he finished with a grand flourish of his hands.

The worst part about auditions isn't the nervousness or the angst or the worry. It's the waiting. And wait I did. Unfortunately, I was number 84, so I had to sit and watch all eighty-three dancers before me. Some were really terrible, getting stopped or cut off less than a minute into their piece. Others were quiet brilliant, and were allowed to dance the whole three minutes that was the maximum time allowed. After seeing sixty-three dancers go before me, I wasn't nervous at all anymore. In fact, I felt surprisingly quite good. I knew I was just as good or better than everyone who had gone.

Finally, my turn came.

"Number 84-- Miss Christine DuBois?" Mr. Reyer called out.

"Right here, sir," I quickly answered back as I headed towards the table to hand them my information, photo, and music.

"Alright, very good. Please take your spot up onstage and wait to begin," he said with a reassuring smile.

I went through the pass door leading to the backstage wings and walked out onto the stage. I got into my starting pose and waited for the music to begin. I tried clearing my mind so I could get into my 'dancing zone' where nothing else mattered and I thought of nothing else, but I couldn't help thinking quickly about Mrs. Giry's encouragement and advice through the past weeks, and I thought about how my parents had been there for me through every audition nurturing my dancing career. I knew they would be proud even of the fact that I was up here now trying out for an opera. I smiled to myself and heard my music begin.

I started to dance and felt myself being carried away to that area of intense focus I found myself when I danced my best. I knew I had to look great as I moved about the stage. Time stopped having meaning to me, but at some point I realized I had been dancing for awhile and hadn't been stopped. As I went into a développé leap I recalled my earlier dream. I envisioned myself from that dream, dancing to a full house. I could imagine every seat in the Majestic filled with adoring fans and patrons, and when I looked I could see Erik in one of the boxes, hidden almost completely in darkness, holding that red rose.

My reverie ended, and so did my dance. My face was flushed from dancing, and I was sweating quite a lot, but I knew had I had danced beautifully. I could feel it inside my heart. The director and choreographer gave no indication other than a quick thanks as they continued to write down some notes. I nodded and smiled, and headed off the stage, prepared to do more waiting.

**X X X**

I was not at all surprised to see my audition number appear on the list of people who made it to phase two. Roughly one-hundred people had been cut, which left about fifty dancers to continue on with me. There were spots for twenty in the cast.

I was relieved to learn I was going to be in the first half of people who were learning the group dance. I wasn't ready to sing and knew I had to eventually, but putting it off a little longer still looked appealing to me.

I gathered again with the other dancers onstage as the choreographer began to address us.

"Congratulations everyone! By making it to phase two, you are all obviously fine and talented dancers! Sadly, we only have room for fifteen females and five males, so best of luck to you all. I'm going to teach you some choreography now, it's easier than what will be in the show, but we don't want to kill you before we even begin rehearsals! So relax, and have some fun!" she stated, then quickly added with another smile, "Oh, and please! Don't call me Cecile, James or Jamie is perfectly acceptable, and preferable, to me."

Everyone smiled, and phase two began. The dance steps were easy, and I caught on quickly. I was blessed with a good and fast memory when it came to choreography. Seeing that I had it down pretty well, James even had me move towards the front with a few other dancers. When we were finished learning the dance, I knew I would be great in the group performance. But it was time to sing.

When we had made our way down into the rehearsal hall, Mr. Charmin first lead us through a series of vocal warm-ups. He gave us a few tips and pointers here and there about breathing and how we should shape our mouths.

"I know you are not all used to singing, but this is quite a big production, and we need everyone to be the best they can be. . . in all areas," Mr. Richard said pointedly, as if we all needed to be reminded of this painfully obvious fact.

Mr. Charmin explained we would be breaking in half and would first sing the chorus piece through a couple of times in our group to warm us up on the notes. Then, we would sing the same pieces individually. I tired to remain calm as I stepped up with my group and stood near the other sopranos and began to sing.

_With feasting and dancing and song, _

_tonight in celebration _

_we greet the victorious throng, _

_returned to bring salvation!_

_The trumpets of Carthage resound ! _

_Hear, Romans, now and tremble! _

_Hark to our step on the ground!_

_Hear the drums - Hannibal comes!_

I was feeling much better by the time we had sung the piece a few times, and waited for my solo turn. When my turn was finally called, I was petrified.

I quickly recalled in my mind my mother singing. _What did she do before she sang? How did she do it?_ I thought in a panic. Then I remembered Erik's advice from the night before.

"_Relax, and breathe from here. Believe that you can do it."_

He also told me to clear my mind, don't think, just sing. _Don't think, just sing, don't think, just sing. _I repeated it to myself over and over in my mind, like a mantra. _Believe that you can do it_.

In the end, I did do it. But not as well as I would have liked. I couldn't hit many of the highest notes, and went a little flat. After I started singing, I tried to relax, but forgot to breathe, so my timing was a little off. But I thought my voice had been pretty clear, and at least I had sung loudly, instead of mousy and quiet, which I figured was a plus. No one booed me, or laughed, but I was still slightly embarrassed of myself. I certainly didn't feel like the amazing naturally talented singer my friends had built me up to be.

We all returned to join the other dancers and finished the day with the group dancing. I felt I redeemed myself by dancing perfectly again. I didn't miss a single step, and knew I was the best one in my group. It felt nice to end on a positive note.

When it was finally all over, everyone was thanked for a hard day of work. We were told we would receive phone calls, regardless of the outcome of our auditions, the next day. I was thoroughly exhausted and looked forward to going home and taking a long hot shower to give my muscles some peace.

Meg was waiting for me when I got home, and I shared all the audition news with her. She of course reassured me, as best friends do, and told me I was going to get in for sure.

After my shower, I headed straight for bed. It wasn't that late, only about six o'clock, but I needed sleep in the worst way. I wished we could have found out whether we were cast that day. Going to sleep worrying about whether or not I had made it was just as bad as going to sleep and worrying about the audition and singing! I was glad the day and auditions were finally over, and I couldn't do a single thing but wait nervously again. The butterflies were beating full force once more as I drifted off to sleep.

**A/N: This was supossed to be an even longer chapter, but it made more sense to end it here! Hope you enjoyed it. No E/C interaction, I know...but she finally did the audition, which has been brewing since, well, the beginning! Also, if anyone wants to see pictures of the real Majestic, let me know, I'll post some online. PLEASE Review! I love them:-) **


	10. No More Waiting

**Chapter 9: No More Waiting**

The morning came once again, as it always does, and I was relieved I had gotten a full night's rest. And considering I had gone to bed so early, it was more like one and a half nights worth of sleep. I had needed it.

I struggled to get out of bed, wishing I could just stay there. It's not that I wanted to go back to sleep-- too much sleep can be a terrible thing. But, I felt like it wouldn't hurt to just lay there under the covers, maybe do a little peaceful reading, pretend like I didn't exist to the rest of the world for the day. Mostly I just didn't want to worry about anything! Unfortunately, I had things to do that wouldn't allow me to lie in bed for hours. _ So much for Sundays being a day of rest,_ I thought. The things I was committed to accomplish though were not necessarily bad. In fact, I looked forward to most of my day's planned events.

Since I had spent the last few weeks obsessively training and rehearsing, I had promised Meg we would spend some quality time together in the morning. She had wanted to go out with me that night, but unfortunately I had to go to work at the library.

_Well, not so unfortunate because you might see Erik,_ my mind reminded me, a thought which gave me get a tiny smile.

Meg and I decided the best thing to do was stay in and have a girlie day-- watching movies, eating chocolate, gossiping about celebrities, the usual. I had missed doing those things with her over the past weeks, and I think she missed her best friend as well. Just because two people live together doesn't mean they see each other.

I finally got up out of bed, threw my robe on over my pajama pants and camisole and walked out into the living room to see if Meg was awake.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty! I see her majesty is awake and among the living," Meg greeted me in her own special way. "When you went to bed so early yesterday, I figured you would have already been up for hours. I was expecting breakfast to be all laid out for me when I got up!"

"Afraid not, the Sandman was quite a convincing buddy last night, and talked me into partying quite awhile in his world," I grinned at her. "I needed it though. I have been pushing myself so hard these days, I think now that I'm done my body decided to give up on me finally."

That had happened to me after many shows-- I would work and work and work, and after the final curtain call, I usually ended up violently ill. One time in high school, after our spring performance, I had gotten so sick I was out of school for over a week. Anything for my art, grades be damned!

"Don't let your body give up now! Sure you made it through the audition, but what about when you get cast and start going to rehearsals? If you thought you were working hard before, I know how you get once you're in real performance mode."

"_If_ I get in, you mean. It's not a done deal yet." Meg just gave me a look. "Anyway, so, what's on our schedule for this morning?" I asked.

"Well, why don't we both pick out some DVDs and plan this morning's marathon? I was definitely thinking we should have some sort of theme, like 'jilted lovers' or some other sort of angsty romance."

"So, no laughing today, huh?" I smirked.

"Well, I'm sure the quality of the films we watch are mock-worthy. No worries there! What time do you have to be at work?"

"Not until four, so we have quite awhile," I promised her.

"Great! Well, you start searching through our collection, and I'll go get us some snacks." Meg started to head into the kitchen and called out, "Can they be super fattening comfort food snacks?"

"I would have it no other way," I replied and got to my task at hand.

**X X X**

It was 5 o'clock when I looked down at my watch after what had to be the thirtieth time I had checked to see how long I had been at work and how long I had yet to go. The library was still running on its 'summer hours' schedule, so I knew I had at least another three hours to go.

Sundays were always the worst for work, especially for me since I was stuck at the Book Delivery call window. Book Delivery is a special reference section where people go to request books on little slips of paper. The staff takes these papers, goes back through private stacks and pulls books. In the meantime, patrons get little buzzers similar to those used at restaurants-- when your book is ready, your timer goes off. As a Book Delivery staff member, looking for all the books some people want can be a tedious and long process, especially if the requested books are all in different call sections. Sometimes books will show up on the computers as being present in the stacks, but there had been times I had searched for twenty minutes before giving up on a book that was obviously lost or misplaced.

It's bad enough when there is a queue of fifteen people all waiting for their books. It is worse when there is no one waiting for books. Which is how I found myself spending Sunday evening-- alone and bored. I was still waiting for the Opera Boston phone call, which was filling me with more and more anxiety each second, and I was hoping that I saw Erik, not only because I wanted someone to talk to, but also because I had decided I was officially enamored with him, or infatuated with him, whichever! My thoughts and even dreams over the past two days had constantly drifted towards him. I dreamt about him before my audition, I used him as motivation at my audition, and afterwards I wanted to tell him all about it. I had it bad.

Yet, it still struck me as odd because I still really didn't know anything about him. I knew he was a man; he had a name- Erik; he knew something about music, somehow. And that was really about it. _But that isn't all you know, really_, that same annoying voice kept telling me. I knew he was mysterious, and attractive. He seemed secretive and aloof, but had a charming quality about him. And he was intense. Our brief meetings were filled with some sort of strong feelings that you just didn't normally get from your 'average-Joe-stranger.' And most of all, I knew I liked it. I liked him. It felt nice to have someone take an interest in me, and only me-- to not be distracted by other things at the same time. It definitely made a girl feel special.

Yes, my thoughts were lost to Erik. The only good thing about the Book Delivery window is that it is situated in a large open corridor that connects two sections of the library. It is huge and echo-y so you can see and hear everyone who wanders through. And I was so anxious to see Erik again, that every person who came around those corners that I saw, my heart would jump thinking it could be him.

But, by 6 o'clock, he still hadn't come.

_Of course you haven't seen him yet, stupid. It's not like he follows you and keeps your schedule! The other times were coincidences. . . . Nice coincidences, however. Why can't he be here by coincidence now? I can just imagine him standing here again in front--_

"Shut up," I mumbled to my overactive imagination.

By 7 o'clock I had moved from boredom and anxiety into pure torture. Over the past few hours I had filled several orders, but they had been few and far between. I was restless. But then two amazing things happened to make up for the entire afternoon, hell, even the entire week of worry!

My cell phone began ringing loudly. Even though I had been waiting for a call, I still wasn't expecting the noise, so I must have jumped three feet from being frightened. The number on the caller-ID wasn't one that I recognized at all, so I eagerly grabbed my phone and turned away to face the reference stacks so that I wasn't speaking out into the big corridor.

"Hello?" I questioned, nervous again.

"Hi, is this Christine DuBois?" a woman said on the other end.

"Yes, this is she," I waited.

"Hi! This is James, the choreographer from Opera Boston calling about your audition."

I wasn't sure how I should respond, so I stuck with another salutation in a neutral, but somewhat cheery sounding voice.

"Oh, right, hi!" It was the best I could muster.

"Well, yeah, I'm calling to let you know that, first, I was completely impressed with your audition! You are a fabulous dancer."

_That's good, right?_ It sounded good so far. Or she could have just been nice by saying that before she was going to tell me I had been cut. I waited some more.

"So, anyway, I _obviously_ want you to be a part of the company and the show! You're in!"

I couldn't believe it, I wasn't even sure I had heard her correctly. So I lamely stammered, 'I- I am?"

James laughed into the phone, "Of course, we were all blown away! I'm shocked you could even doubt it with that sort of talent. Which brings me to my next bit of news-- I want you to be my assistant dance captain. You had such a feel for the choreography and caught on so quickly. You'll be great to work with the other dancers to help them along, and once the show opens, I'll put you in charge of running warm-ups and doing any other emergency rehearsals. Of course, only if that's cool with you."

I was absolutely and completely shocked into silence. I finally realized she was asking for my acceptance, and I quickly shot out-

"Of course! Oh my gosh-- this is just. . .wow!" I could hear James chuckling. "I'm just really surprised, I never expected this."

"Well, believe it-- you earned it! I wouldn't lie to you, girlfriend," she assured me.

She continued to tell me a few more particulars about the show and casting. The first full company meeting and rehearsal was on Wednesday, so I had a few days to relax, straighten out my work schedule, and then I could get into the full swing of rehearsals. I was beyond thrilled! I was in permanent residence on cloud nine!

After I hung up with James, I started jumping up and down and shrieking with excitement. And for the second time that night, I was startled once more by a voice behind me that stated simply-

"So, I assume congratulations are in order then?"

I didn't even have to turn around to know it was Erik. In my excitement, I didn't even hear him walk up, and I certainly didn't see him enter the corridor. I turned around to face him and saw him smirking at me. I knew I, without a doubt, looked ridiculous jumping up and down like a little kid, but this time I was too happy to be embarrassed. I just plastered a huge smile on my face and spoke to, literally, the man of my dreams.

"I got in! Erik, I'm in the opera!" I screeched.

"So I gathered from your celebratory. . .squealing," he lifted an eyebrow as his two eyes glowed at me. "Again congratulations. I had no doubts on your abilities."

"I'm even the assistant dance captain! I'm just so surprised and, well. . . flabbergasted! I mean, I felt like my vocal audition was terrible. I was so nervous, I messed it up. All the high notes. . ." It was painful even to remember it, and I sobered down thinking about how I would still have to sing, especially now that I was in the show for sure.

"I am certain you sang beautifully, as evidence by your acceptance into the cast. I, of course, have recognized your true talent and potential, Christine. Just as I am sure others have as well."

"Well, there is definitely room for improvement," I admitted truthfully. "But, wow! I can't believe I will be performing in the Majestic. The theatre is amazing. Have you been there before?" I asked, figuring someone who seemed to know so much about the arts and opera would have gone at least once.

"I'm afraid to say that I have not been there to see a true performance," he responded, seeming to try and select his words perfectly.

"Well, maybe you can come see me, when it opens," I half-asked, almost silently begged, hoping he would agree.

He looked at me intently, his eyes saying more than any words could.

"Don't worry, Christine. I will see you onstage. . . .in one way or another," he finally answered obscurely, in that way of his I had come to predict. His cryptic responses made him even more appealing to me.

"I regret that I must leave now," he said quietly, and with what sounded like great disappointment. Then after some further thought, he looked at me and continued. "You will have much to learn. . . all in due time. But for now, revel in your moment, Christine. I am proud of you."

I whispered a faint goodbye, disappointed he was leaving again, but thrilled that he hadn't just disappeared on me without a farewell. His parting words and pride had filled me with a joy I couldn't even describe. I didn't feel the need to ask him if and when I would be seeing him again. This time I just knew I would, and I had a feeling that meeting wouldn't be far away.

I watched him travel silently away, amazed by his tall and graceful movements. He looked like a dancer, himself. I wouldn't have been surprised at all if that was another quality I could have added to my list.

When he had completely evaporated from my sight, I let out a small sigh.

_Yep, Christine, definitely infatuated._

**A/N: Another update. It was really hard to write the end of this chapter, and I'm anxious to see what you all think! A small plot development, and more E/C interaction, which I know you all love! Erik is starting to open up more to Christine. I think he likes her...awwww. **

**Please Review! I love them, they help and they motivate me-- you know the drill! I appreciate every review I get, and now I even respond back to them:-) Thank you for reading!**


	11. Frogs

**Chapter 10: Frogs **

I was still high on life when I made it home from the library Sunday night. The call, and Erik-- it was all too much good for one evening, and I knew I hadn't felt that happy in a long, long time. When I got to my apartment, I could barely unlock the door I was bouncing with so much excitement. I felt like screaming to the whole world about my good fortune just to release some of my energy. However, when I finally got inside, it was Meg, not the entire planet, that was second to learn of my acceptance into _Hannibal_.

"I'm in! I'm in! Meg! I got the call from Opera Boston at work!" I yelled the second I saw her in the kitchen.

"Chris! That is amazing! See, did I call it, or what?" she joked with that 'I-told-you-so' look on her face. "You were all worried and freaked out, but I said the whole time you would make it, missy."

"I know, I know. I should really start listening to you from the beginning," I acquiesced.

"Yes, you should! So, details, details..." she pushed.

I told Meg about my boring shift at work and how the phone call, even though I was anticipating it, startled me. I explained how I nervously and lamely answered, saying "hi" about, what seemed like, twenty times, then James complimented me and said I was cast.

"And, Meg-- the coolest part is," I saved the best for the end, "she wants me to be the assistant dance captain! I get to be in charge of extra rehearsals and warm-ups and stuff! It's so awesome, I _still_ can't believe it. I'm afraid she'll like call me tomorrow and tell me they mixed up forms and numbers and I wasn't actually the person they meant to cast."

"Oh, please! Stop pity-partying yourself. You made it, already! For someone so talented, you really have the worst self-opinion," she pointed out.

"I think I'm just being humble all the time. No body likes a diva. Besides, I can already tell this production will have at least one," I explained and told her a little bit more about _the_ La Carlotta. Meg smiled and laughed at my story.

"She sounds terrifying! Hopefully you won't have to deal with her too much."

"I get the feeling she wants everyone to deal with her, all the time. Oh well, she can have the spotlight, I'm glad just to be there and actually be an employed dancer," I confessed.

"That's the spirit! So, I guess the singing part of your audition wasn't as bad as you originally thought. I knew it wouldn't be."

"Hmm... I guess not. Maybe I overreacted to how I thought my audition went. It just didn't feel right. But, I have plenty of time to improve now! And maybe at actual rehearsals I won't be so nervous."

"Good call! Oh! Speaking of call-- and I don't mean to give unwanted news or anything, but Randall called while you were out and wanted to know about the auditions. I may have. . . hinted that you would call him back, don't kill me!" she threw in for her defense.

"Don't worry, I already promised him I would call him and let him be the first to know about the outcome of my audition. Of course, I've already lied because two people already have that info before him."

"Hey, I'm number two! Not fair. Who is this _first_ person you told?" she asked, mock pouting.

I paused briefly. For someone reason, I didn't feel like telling her about Erik being at the library again. She was thrilled about me learning his name and told me to keep her updated. But, I just didn't feel like sharing anything about him anymore. I knew Meg and how she loved gossip and romance. And Erik was beginning to feel like my own personal little secret. It was still too complicated, and I didn't want Meg thinking I was going to be bringing home a new guy every night now.

"Oh, just somebody I work with. They happened to be around when I got the call. I didn't exactly tell them I got the part, but it was pretty obvious by my reaction to the phone call from James." Well, at least half of what I told her was true. Erik had overheard my squeals of excitement.

"Well, okay, we can let that one slide, it doesn't count!" Meg smiled brightly. "Now, go call Randall so you don't make a liar out of me!"

I headed back down the hallway into my bedroom. After closing the door for a little bit of privacy, I got out my cell phone and dialed the number. I was a little nervous because it was the first time I had been the one to call him since our breakup. True, he had left a message for me with Meg and knew I would be calling back, but that didn't stop me from feeling uneasy.

The phone rang once. . . twice. . . three times. _Maybe I should just hang up and try again later_, I thought hopefully.

Fourth ring. . . .

"Hello? Christine?" Randall's expectant voice said over the line.

"Yeah, hey there. It's Chris. Meg told me you rang earlier."

"Yeah, how are you?" he asked politely.

"Oh, I'm doing great. Just got off of work. I'm sorry I didn't call you earlier. I was so exhausted yesterday, and this morning Meg and I hung out. Then I had a shift at the BPL," I explained.

"Right. So, what about the audition? Good news, I hope."

I chuckled slightly, still excited about my opera victory.

"Yep, great news! I got in. And I'm even the assistant dance captain!" I told him proudly.

"Wow, Christine. . . . that's amazing! But I knew you would do beautifully. I've always recognized your potential." Randall's words made me flashback to my conversation with Erik, who had pretty much told me the same thing about my potential. I blushed at the thought.

"Yeah, someone else just said that to me today, too."

"Well, then they are correct. And they must be very intelligent. I'd like to meet them, I'm sure we'd get a long."

_No, I don't think you would,_ I almost said out loud.

"We could be your own personal fan club," Randall joked.

"I think I'd like to make it through one major production before I start taking membership dues."

"Well, in lieu of a club joining fee," he paused slightly, ". . . why don't you let me take you out to dinner. Some place fancy? It's a special occasion."

His offer was sweet, and I almost found myself saying yes. But I wasn't ready to go back down that road yet. A couple of weeks ago I kept flip-flopping on my feelings for Randall, not sure if I had made the right choice or not. But over the past week, I had really started to discover myself. _And maybe you've discovered someone else,_ my mind stated, still not leaving me alone. But it was right. I wasn't sure if it was my new career, or Erik, or my own self-determination, but I was finally moving over from Randall and ready to move on. My mind was no longer in two halves over should I date him or shouldn't I. I _had_ made the right choice. But I still didn't want to be rude. A part of me did love him, still. It just wanted fair to lead him on.

"Randall, that's such a nice offer. But, I just don't think I have the time. Rehearsals start in a few days, I still have hours I'm committed to at the library. Plus, I need some down time for myself," I explained as nicely as I could without flat out just saying 'no way.'

"Oh. . .well, I know you're still busy. I just thought. . ." he trailed off. I felt terrible.

"Maybe sometime after opening night we can go out? After the show gets on a regular schedule, I probably won't be as busy. You will come to see the show, right?"

He perked up at that, "Of course, I wouldn't miss it. I promise."

We talked for a little bit more. I asked him how things were going in his life, especially with work. He did admit to things being 'tense' for awhile, but said they seemed to die down. He still sounded paranoid speaking about work, but I let it slide. It wasn't my problem anymore, I had decided.

We finished our conversation, said goodnight, and hung up. After a quick bite to eat with Meg, I decided to do a bit of reading in my opera book and finally ended up asleep with more dreams of stardom in my head.

**X X X**

Wednesday arrived and brought along some colder weather to Boston than what we had normally been having so far in the month. I layered up my clothes, not wanting to be chilly and pull a muscle, and headed on over to the theatre for my first real rehearsal and meeting. I wasn't quite sure what to expect. I didn't know if we would just be signing contracts, do some actual dancing, or even singing. Either way, I was excited and ready to begin the process.

Instead of entering the theatre through the front lobby as I had done on the day of my audition, James had instructed me to use the backstage door that was down an alley on the side of the theatre building. I always loved being able to go through the stage doors of theatres which were normally closed off to the public. It made me feel like a VIP, or something, and added to the whole 'show-business' experience. I had fond memories of leaving theatres with my parents through the backdoor-- sometimes there were even fans waiting for autographs. I slightly wondered, as I wrote my name on the company sign-in sheet, if anyone would ever be waiting outside for my autograph.

When I was signed in and backstage, I followed the hallways and tried navigating my way onstage and through the pass door into the audience. My memory didn't fail me, and I was soon walking into the rows of seats trying to find a place to sit down. I figured it would be best to sit near the front as I didn't want to get lost in the crowd. There were already at least forty or fifty people gathered. With all the dancers and chorus and other small roles, it was a fairly large company. But I had known this was going to be a large production.

I walked into the fourth row and took of my coat and plopped it and my dance bag down into the seat next to me. I looked around at everyone, trying to see who else from my groups had made the cut, and recognized a few faces. On the other side of the house I saw Tatum, who had obviously made it into the chorus. I caught her attention, smiled and waved in her direction. She grinned over at me and gave me a big 'thumbs up' and went back to a conversation she was having with another company member. I was really glad she made it in the show.

I saw James walk into the theatre through the pass door and gave her a small wave. She headed right in my direction.

"Hey, Christine! So glad to see you again! We've got a really busy day ahead of us," she explained, then informed me quickly of some of the schedule. "By the time this show opens, you are going to be so sick of spending time with me!"

"I think I'll manage," I said playfully. "I'm really ready to start working."

"You'll be great!" she assured me. "Just work and dance as hard as you did at the auditions and it will be a fabulous show! No question there!" She smiled and headed off saying she had to take care of some paperwork before the meeting began.

I looked around some more and realized several more people had arrived. A couple of rows in front of me, I noticed a group of people who had just sat down. I was upset to find I was now sitting several rows behind La Carlotta and her entourage. She was dressed in another highly ridiculous outfit, shouting out orders to what I assumed were her own personal assistants.

"Oh please," I sighed, "who would ever want to do _that _job."

"What job?" I heard Tatum ask as she jumped out of no where into the seat next to mine.

"That woman's bidding," I answered in explanation while pointing to the diva.

"Oh, right. _La Carlotta,_" she said in an exaggerated fake accent. "I've heard some real horror stories about her."

"I can imagine."

"The word on the street is," Tatum began whispering to draw me in closer to share her bit of gossip, "Carlotta is kind of washed up now. She used to be big in Europe, but her attitude essentially black-listed her from opera houses there. I heard she can't even really sing that well. But, she is a big name, so I think the director, Mr. Reyer, was quick to sign her."

I pondered Tatum's rumors as Mr. Reyer came to the front of the stage to begin the day's rehearsals.

"Alright, everyone," he said, calling us to attention, "welcome, again to you all, and congratulations for being a member of this fine company! All of you were the best of the lot and I look forward to working closely with every single one of you! We have quite a production ahead of us-- it is going to be spectacular!

"The order of today is as follows-- first, you will break up into your respective areas and go over production contracts and schedules. We want to get all of that in order today so you can all begin getting your paychecks next week!"

A few chuckles and some cheers were heard throughout the theatre. Mr. Reyer continued,

"Since we only have a little less than four weeks for rehearsals, we will all begin work today. Principals, minor roles, and chorus will all get your scripts and scores today and will start immediately on learning the music. Dancers, you will of course be working with our choreographer today. Also, in the afternoon you will be having another session with Mr. Charmin to begin some vocal work. We want to hear you all individually to asses your singing some more and be able to give you an appropriate score for your own personal vocal ranges."

"Ha! If the ballet rats can even sing at all!"

I looked up to hear, well overhear, Carlotta's snide remark. I was offended and looked over at Tatum and complained as quietly as I could without disrupting anything.

"Of _course_ we can sing!" I said indignantly. Unfortunately, I wasn't quiet enough as Carlotta turned around to address me.

"What was that, little toad?" she sneered.

I wasn't going to be pushed around that easily on my first day. Diva, or no diva, I had earned my right to be there too, and for once I had a little confidence where singing was concerned.

"I simply said that of course we can all sing. Why else would we be here?" I shot back at her. She simply smirked and continued to insult me.

"Well, I am not sure what sort of favors you had to do to be here today," she said suggestively. "After all, you are merely a dancer, are you not? Quite flexible. . .in all areas, I am sure. But I look forward to hearing you sing, toad. I just hope you don't get a frog in your throat."

Her assistants laughed at her little pun as she turned back around to face front. I couldn't believe what she had suggested to me, and I simply didn't have the words or the gumption to get into a verbal sparring match with her.

"Don't let her get to you, Christine. See what I meant, _black-listed_," Tatum whispered, trying to console me.

Mr. Reyer fortunately didn't seem to notice or overhear our little side conversation and was still going on about the rehearsal and what the chorus was going to be doing for the day. I idly looked around the theatre some more, trying to appreciate the architecture more now that I wasn't stressing over auditioning. I saw a slight movement out of the corner of my eye that instantly caught my attention. My gaze traveled up to one of the box seats where I expected to see someone sitting to watch, or maybe a member of the theatre staff cleaning. But the box was dark and empty. I shook my head and figured I was just imagining things. But I could have sworn I saw some sort of movement. . . .

"Probably just a breeze," I mumbled the thought to myself, not meaning to speak out loud.

"Huh?" Tatum whispered back next to me.

"Oh. . . . nothing. I just thought I saw. . . well, I'm not sure what I saw. Probably nothing," I confessed.

"Maybe it's a ghost! I mean, this building is over one-hundred years old!" she said with an excited glint in her eye. "Wouldn't that be so cool?"

"I'm not sure if I believe in ghosts. But, if I run into him, I'll be sure to introduce you," I responded quietly with a small smirk.

The rest of the morning went fairly well. Mr. Reyer finished his long winded meeting and we were able to meet up with our departments to go over contracts. It was great meeting all of the new dancers, a few I even recognized from my earlier days at the Conservatory. I was also really beginning to like James. She seemed so easy going, and always friendly. When she introduced me to the group as her assistant, I got that 'celebrity' feeling again. It was nice to know I had been recognized for my talent, and it was slightly intoxicating to know I held some power and control over the rest of the dancers.

As we finished signing our contracts and employment papers, I felt another wave of relief wash over me. I wasn't making a lot of money, a standard non-union wage of about 400 dollars per week, but it was a start. I still wasn't hurting for money, but I had planned on trying to save some up for when I would eventually move some day. Boston was great, but I knew I couldn't stay in the city forever, and nor did I want to. I still had my job at the library, and not a lot of expenses, especially with not having to pay much for rent, so I figured I was good.

With everything in order we began to stretch out and started the morning's work. The dancers got the main stage, while everyone else went to other rehearsal halls. As a small warmup, we performed the dance we learned as the group number at auditions, which I was proud to still remember and was even more proud to be able to help others with it in my first official duty as assistant.

When all of the dancers got into place to start the number over again, I looked back out into the house, which was now sadly empty, not even the director was there to watch. I laughed inwardly to myself and decided I must be dancing for the ghosts now. However ridiculous Tatum's ideas sounded to me that morning, the thought of a ghost actually did seem to fit into the surroundings and history of the theatre. In a way it was perfect; it felt right.

As the dance started, that familiar euphoria returned to me, and I focused solely on my art.

**X X X**

After a quick lunch break I returned back to the Majestic and realized I was done dancing for the day; the time had come again to sing. Carlotta's comments were still fresh in my mind, but I knew I belonged in the show, so I didn't feel nearly as nervous as I had before. I figured it would just be me and my fellow dancers, I would sing, it would be fine. I had nothing to prove to my dancing peers.

With that knowledge, it felt like a weight lifted off my shoulders. I didn't have to be perfect, I was already there, and that was what mattered. I thought Carlotta could go piss off, and I couldn't care less about the pompous diva.

Unfortunately, when I finally made my way down to the rehearsal hall, there was Carlotta, sitting with Mr. Reyer and Mr. Charmin waiting for all the dancers to assemble. I must have looked like a deer caught in headlights when I entered the room because Mr. Reyer, who seemed to notice my disbelief and now palpable nervousness, spoke to me.

"Don't worry, Miss DuBois. We all just want to get a feel for how our company stands. Even La Carlotta wants to be here for support!"

"Right, support," I hedged slightly, not sure of what to say anymore.

"Why, yes, I would not want to miss the singing ballerinas. I hope that you will be the first to _hop_ up and sing," she said in a falsely sweet voice, her pun reminding me of her earlier insult, as if I had forgotten.

Luckily I was saved from the encountered by other dancers entering the hall, including James who pulled me aside to go over some notes from the morning rehearsals. The vocal showcases began while I was still speaking with James, so fortunately I avoided going first. I could barely focus on what she was saying, though, as a feeling of doom and gloom entered my mind again. I wanted to go back to the cavalier attitude I had adopted earlier, thinking Carlotta could go screw herself, and I was not having to prove anything. But sadly, my insecurities with the prima donna in the room got the best of me.

It was finally my turn to go last.

_Save the best for last,_ I thought to myself, trying to give my mind and body one final shred of hope. The music started and I opened my mouth to sing. Instead of the chorus selection from the day of the audition, we were actually singing one of Carlotta's arias, a song called _Think of Me_. I thought I began well, trying to muster my confidence and put it into the music. I caught myself looking down at my feet, and I knew that my actions were making my voice weaker than it should be. I could do better, and I _knew_ better. I tried correcting myself by raising my chin and looking out at the room, and it did help for a second. . . .until my eyes found Carlotta, smirking at me with her air of superiority. I choked and my voice cracked on the next high note I came to. I recovered and kept on going as if nothing had happened, and forced myself to sing louder, but maybe I bit too loud. To make matters worse I saw Mr. Charmin slightly wince at another high note I missed.

Mercifully the bit of the song ended, and I sort of smiled meekly and fidgeted with my hands.

"Um, well, thank you Miss DuBois. You seem a bit nervous. . . .nothing wrong with that. Hopefully just first day jitters, I have no doubt," Mr. Charmin said kindly, and I knew he was just trying to make me feel better, hopefully not regretting his decision to include me in the show.

Mr. Reyer got up out of his seat to end the day, thanked us all, and reminded us of our schedules the next day. The room started to clear out as I gathered my stuff. James got my attention and wanted to go over some last things before our next rehearsal. She seemed to sense and understand my discomfort over singing.

She told me sympathetically, "Don't worry about it. You're a dancer!"

_And a singer, if you wanted to be. _I wasn't sure where that thought came from, but still, Erik's words from the week before rang throughout my head. What did he see that I, and everyone else, was obviously missing? I shook my head.

"Eh, just nerves. I'll be fine tomorrow," I explained with a shaky smile.

James reviewed her choreography notes with me, and listed some things that needed work. I noticed the room was completely empty save for the two of us, Mr. Reyer, Mr. Charmin, and of course Carlotta. I had a terrible feeling she was waiting for me, so I hoped that awkwardness forced her to leave with the directors while James and I were speaking. Such was not the case. James quickly ended what she had to tell me, and started to head out. I rushed to grab my things, and headed for the door to the hallway thinking I could make it out of the room safely, but of course Carlotta appeared promptly at my side before I could open the door.

"Very impressive singing. . . .for a frog. Yes, yes I believe you croaked, just like the little toad that you are," she jeered at me, then strutted out of the room, flinging her hideous stole over her shoulder.

I stood there dumbly for a few seconds, taking in everything that had just happened that afternoon. It all piled up on top of me, and the excited happiness I felt in the early morning was gone completely.

How could my friends be so supportive, but so dishonest? I felt like I had no potential, no talent, and no hope. Why did I think I could sing in an opera. An opera! All it was was singing!

Tears stung the backs of my eyes as I ran out the door and headed out of the theatre as fast as I could into the chilly evening air.

**A/N: Okay, I am really anxious to know what people thought of this chapter. I had a lot of fun writing it, so I hope you enjoy reading it! Again, no E/C interaction...but guess what? Next chapter is from Erik's (third person) POV! So be excited for that. **

**Okay, please please please REVIEW! I really love them, and they are great motivation. **

**Thanks!**


	12. Observance

**A/N: WARNING! ** **Okay, this chapter has become slightly graphic and violent. The story has a Teen rating... I don't think it needs a Mature one, but as things are going to be escalating in my story, I will change it if anyone finds it offensive, or thinks it deserves higher! Thanks! **

**Also note, this is an 'Erik' chapter. His 'voice' is in third person, where as I am writing Christine's in first person. I'm sorry if this confuses anyone, but I just wanted to clarify:-)**

**Chapter 11: Observance**

Surrounded by the dark shadows of the theatre box, Erik stared down at the girl who was quickly becoming an obsession. For the past two weeks, Erik had followed Christine DuBois-- to and from work, to her rehearsals, even her home. Ironically, she lived not far from where he had made his home, hidden from view from the rest of the city. She might have even walked past his entrance in the past, and never would have known a home existed deep within the walls.

It had been easy to sneak in and out of the theatre. Years ago while exploring the more unknown parts on Boston, he had discovered many abandoned subway tunnels, some which had passage ways into the basements and cellars of old theatres. Through some research he had discovered that many early 1900s theatres had used electricity directly from the subway trains that ran near or beneath the stages. Doorways and entrance ways had been made for easier access to the lines and cables that ran the power. Although newer power systems were installed later in the century, the secret passages still existed, some caved in, but some very much open, and were now used as a means of invisible travel by Erik.

He also learned the entire Majestic Opera House was filled with secret rooms, closets, and tunnels, long abandoned and forgotten. They were perfect for Erik and allowed him to travel throughout the building to follow Christine and not be spotted.

It did not take Erik long to determine that Christine DuBois knew nothing of Randall Chagny's problem. The phone conversations he had tapped between the two shared nothing of the boy's work issues, and Christine even directly admitted to having broken up with her boyfriend. In fact, it seemed as if Chagny was smarter than Erik assumed-- Chagny would not tell Christine what was wrong, even when she flat out asked him for details. Randall Chagny was doing more than not burdening her with the information, he was saving her life.

At first, Erik was not sure why he continued to keep track of her, even after he knew she was no longer a part of his official job. He told himself it was because he needed to be sure Chagny didn't snap under pressure and include her in his secret, but he certainly didn't need to appear before her at her job, or watch her at rehearsals.

In reality, he did not want to admit to himself the real reason why he took an interest to her. When Erik first saw her photograph, he felt a connection, as if he had seen her somewhere else before. He tried blocking it out of his mind, but after a time, the past came flooding back to him. He immediately knew why he was drawn to Christine DuBois-- she reminded Erik of _her._

It was years ago, just before Erik had moved to America, leaving his work as a government assassin in Europe behind. At the time, Erik was in Russia and news had leaked that a spy from the Middle East had penetrated into the country's military and defense branch. The man had been stealing secrets and sending them back to his own country to help one of the major terrorist groups with their nuclear arms and biological warfare programs. When he was discovered, a death sentence was put on his head. He could not flee Russia, knowing that he and his wife would be executed if caught. So, they went deep into hiding, and became far more difficult to find than the Russian government had anticipated. Erik had been called in to find the man and his wife, carry out their execution, and clean up the mess.

It took Erik longer than he thought to find them. But to him, it was never a matter of 'if,' it was always a matter of 'when and how.' Eventually they were located, and Erik began planning their deaths. Because of the spy's position, Erik was also instructed to get information out of him pertaining the the terrorist group's activities and other potential members who were in the country. Torture was to be used if necessary.

It was vital to Erik's plan that he deal with the husband and wife separately. He waited until he knew the wife had left the house to run some sort of errand in secret. Why her husband let her out of his sight given their circumstances he would never know. But he did, and Erik acted on the opportunity.

He had had the man tied standing upright, a rope around his neck, hanging from a pipe on the ceiling of their basement grotto hideout-- pulled tight enough to choke, but not enough to hang. The spy was stronger than he had anticipated. Erik tortured him-- breaking bones, cutting him deep enough to draw blood, but never enough to kill him-- for what seemed like days, but was only actually less than an hour. Erik finally took off his mask, as was his custom, making sure his victim would see the face of death before he would die.

Yet, the spy would give nothing up, no names, no information, nothing. Erik even told him his wife had already been murdered the minute she left, torturing him mentally, tempting him to spill all he knew, but the man would not crack. Erik's time was running out, and he knew it was pointless. He gave the man one more opportunity to speak, not that it would have saved him, and when the man did not comply, he slit his throat, letting enough blood run to finally finish the kill.

Erik cut the rope holding the man up, and grabbed the bloody corpse before the body hit the ground. He had no remorse for the man, he had brought this upon himself by choosing to be a terrorist spy, and Erik had simply been doing what he had been known for and had been paid to do. But in as an act of respect, Erik closed the man's eyes. It was in this position that he was caught by the man's wife who had returned home from the errand she had run.

At first, she made no noise, simply stared with round, widely opened, disbelieving eyes at Erik holding the body of her lifeless husband . Erik was frozen to the spot, engulfed in her gaze. He stared back and took in her face-- beautiful pale skin, thick, curly dark hair falling past her shoulders in waves, and full red lips. Then there were her eyes, a green so vidid they were almost electric, staring straight back into his eyes, into the unmasked face of her husband's killer. The image was permanently burned into his mind.

Then she began screaming. He thought he would never forget the sound of those screams, no matter how much he tried to block them out. It was the sound of loss, a loss so great that even Erik, in all his brilliance, could not and would not ever understand. His mind numb, Erik took a step back and dropped the body into the woman's arms. She sank to the floor screaming and crying over her dead lover. It wasn't supposed to happen that way. She wasn't supposed to see, wasn't supposed to know.

He had planned to kill her, yes. But quickly, painlessly. She had done nothing to deserve _this_ type or amount of torture. Her sin was loving her husband, so much that she would follow him anywhere, even into hiding, all the way to the end, an end that she surely must have known meant her own death. That love made something inside of Erik snap. He had never known such a love, had never witnessed it so strongly in front of his own eyes. His life was mired in death and hate, destruction and greed, in revenge and suffering. Early in life, Erik had been the victim. But somewhere in his time he had turned into the instigator.

Erik knew in that moment he could not kill her. For the first time, he felt sick. Sick from the woman's cries of anguish, sick from the love between the two that Erik had never experienced. Sick from his life. When had he become so heartless that he didn't even have feeling for a woman who had committed no crime, other than love? Had he lost all humanity? He hadn't been sure, but knew he couldn't stay there, living that life. He left the woman sobbing, and that very night fled to America to escape that past, to find some peace and understanding.

Erik had later learned that the woman, with nothing more in her life, gave herself up, and was executed by the Russians immediately. It hadn't mattered that he had left her alive. For the first year in his new life, Erik contemplated the events in Russia. What had begun as a sick sadness slowly turned into a bitter regret and anger. He wasn't even sure what he was angry with anymore. Sparing her had done nothing, killing her would have accomplished nothing.

Time made the feelings fade, until Erik began to feel like the same heartless shell of a person he had been in Europe. He was alone and still isolated from humanity. Why had he ever grieved over them? After two years of living in the States, when the unexpected phone call came for him to perform a new job, he was still reluctant, but agreed. He forgot that night, and the woman and fell back into the routine of his work.

Until almost ten years later, when he had seen the photograph of Christine DuBois, the memories came flooding back. Her resemblance to the woman was uncanny, even down to the green eyes he discovered upon meeting her in person at the library. Although, instead of sadness and regret, he felt a warmth and possibly even hope.

It wasn't so much Christine herself, but the _idea_ of her and what her appearance and likeness to the woman so many years ago might have represented. A second chance, perhaps? Where he once took away life away, could he now rebuild it?

Christine's passion and involvement in music certainly resonated with Erik, and drew him to her. He had used his music as an escape for many years, a way to forget the rest of the world even existed. He would have made a living of it, but no one would hire him. No one would pay to watch Death's head on a stage, no matter the skill. Humanity had robbed him of a better life, a moral life.

But now there was Christine. Her dancing skills were beyond compare. Vocally, she was a diamond in the rough. Her voice was very untrained, but was pure and clear. She lacked emotion, she lacked passion when she sang, but he knew she had it within her. Her voice needed to be nurtured, she needed to put the same feeling into singing as she did into her dancing.

No, he really hadn't meant to follow her around so much, or take such an interest, but it was happening. He knew deep down it was foolish to get involved, but he could not help himself. After all, she was just a victim of life's cruelties as well-- her parents' deaths, her incompetent boyfriend, and even now, she quietly endured the mockery of an opera diva. That had not gone unnoticed to Erik. He knew the pain of insults and jeers all too well.

Erik was certain he could make her shine. She could be the brightest star on stage if she was willing to learn. But could he teach her? Something in him wanted to, needed to. Unfortunately, there was a slight conflict of interest-- he was committed to eliminating her ex-boyfriend.

He had already started the next phase of his job. Erik could have easily killed him already, but found mentally abusing him had its perks too. It had always been his routine to cause the target as much anxiety and mental anguish as possible until they almost begged for death.

Randall Chagny had been the unfortunate recipient of two letters from the Phantom. The first had been a warning to Chagny not to speak out about what he knew of the business dealings he discovered. Erik had included two photos of the boy, one of him at home eating, the other of him at work. Copies of incriminating company documents were also thrown in for good measure. And in blood red ink scrawled across a page, the message was clear--

_He knows where you are, he knows what you do,_

_The Angel of Death is coming for you. . . ._

Chagny had been visibly shaken, and Erik was pleased.

The second letter was far more personal, it was a warning about Christine. Erik, in his newfound obsession would never harm her, but Chagny did not need to know that she was safe. He sent several shots of Christine from the library, at home with her roommate, and one on the stage of the theatre. His note this time was far less poetic--

_The Angel of Music has her now._

_Stay Away! If you value her life. . . . _

He simply didn't want Chagny bothering Christine. Perhaps Erik was being selfish, but she seemed to be warming to him.

However, earlier in the week Chagny had tried asking her out again for dinner. Erik sent the second letter the day after that phone conversation. She had turned him down on her own, which was good. But if Erik had any hope of seeing what sort of voice he could raise out of her, she needed no other commitments or attachments. Randall Chagny did not deserve Christine DuBois, and soon he would not even be an issue anymore. It was just a matter of time.

Erik broke his thoughts and looked back up to the stage. The rehearsal was over, and the company was packing up their belongings and heading out. Christine looked exhausted, but satisfied. She had danced well that afternoon, far better than anyone else. She was beautiful and graceful, and moved as if she weighed nothing more than air. She was strong and limber, leaping and turning as easily as she could walk. It almost seemed wrong to train her to sing and ignore the talent she had in ballet. But Erik had not been lying to her that night at the library, he was proud of her, proud of both talents.

He saw the director walk towards her, and assumed he had notes he wanted to go over with her. She had taken on a lot of responsibility in her position as an assistant to the choreographer. Erik decided it was time he had better leave for the evening and silently made his way out of the box, lost in the shadows and darkness. It wouldn't be long before he saw her again. And soon, she would dazzle the world with the voice of an angel.

**A/N: I'm not sure when and how this chapter became SO Susan Kay based...but there you go! It's also a lot longer than I originally planned, but I was struck with all these ideas in the shower this morning. **

**I hope you enjoy this chapter, and as always REVIEW:-) Thanks.**


	13. Dramatic Awakening

**A/N: The prodigal author returns! I apologize SO much for the long hiatus of this story. I'm sure this excuse isn't new to many of you, but this is my final semester of college (I only have 4 days left!), and I had a huge design/show to put up in the Majestic, and had to write my 50 page thesis! With those things out of the way, it was time to write this again! I promised many of you that this story was not abandoned, and I would never lie! **

**Also, as a note, I have gone through the previous chapters and have done some edits. Nothing major, just fixed a few typos here and there, and changed a few of the sentences so things made more sense, and to fix some plot consistency issues. Nothing major at all...but of course, feel free to go back and reread! You may have to anyway to remember what has been going on since I last updated! **

**I appreciate everyone's continued support of my story, and hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. Working up the plot, and a small cliffhanger at the end. This chapter takes place on the same day as the previous 'Erik' chapter. We're back to Christine's POV.**

**Chapter 12: Dramatic Awakening**

I knew something was wrong the minute I saw Mr. Reyer walk towards me as I was getting ready to leave rehearsal.

It was Saturday, and the company had just finished an intensive ten hour practice. I was tired, but pleased. In just four days, we had learned all the major dances for the first two acts of _Hannibal_. It had been so much work, but it had paid off. James was pleased, and everyone was working well together. James even took some of my advice on different parts of the choreography. I felt like I was doing some of the best dancing of my life. I put all my passion and heart into it, as well as all my new found, diva-induced anger.

Carlotta's comments from the days before still stung in my mind, and she kept adding fresh insults daily. I could barely stand to be anywhere near her. Luckily, we hadn't done many full company rehearsals, but I knew it was only a matter of time before I would be forced to share the stage with her. Unfortunately, she had taken to sitting in on all of our vocal rehearsals. Her presence made me feel awkward and nervous. I didn't want to meet her scrutinizing gaze, but every time I forced myself to be the bigger person, and look up to sing my best, there she was, always smirking at me with a little knowing expression on her face.

A few times my singing was okay, others it was downright awful. After dancing all day, and with having La Carlotta there, I had no energy or drive to sing properly. And after four days of this, on Saturday, I gave up entirely. I didn't even bother trying. I knew I would probably get some sort of talk from Mr. Charmin, but I never expected Mr. Reyer to personally come to speak with me.

The dancers had just finished their final run-thru of the dances in Act I. To my credit, as poorly as I had done at singing that afternoon, I danced amazingly. Carlotta had left by that point, so I almost started to feel happy and proud of myself. It was a nice change.

It was while I was on the edge of the stage packing up my stuff when I again noticed some movement out of the corner of my eye, up in one of the boxes. I felt like I was going crazy, seeing things. I thought maybe I was just dehydrated and was hallucinating. Either way, I didn't have time to think about it, as another movement grabbed my attention. Mr. Reyer was coming towards me to the lip of the stage.

"Might I have a word with you Miss DuBois? It will only take a moment," he asked very officially. My face fell, but I still tried to respond as cheerfully and politely as possible.

"Of course, Mr. Reyer. Let me just finish throwing my stuff into my bag, if that's alright?"

"Absolutely. Just come back to my office when you are finished. You know where it is, correct?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'll be there in just a minute," I replied with a more depressed voice. I was hoping to avoid this type of conversation, but it looked like I was about to get my first lecture. I looked back up to the box again, but didn't see anything, not even a breeze. I finished packing up, and headed back to Reyer's office which was in a dimly lit hallway behind the stage.

His door was open when I got there, so I knocked slightly on the frame to announce my arrival. He looked up at me from the paperwork he was reviewing and waved me in.

"Ah, Miss DuBois. Yes, come in, come in."

"Christine, sir. If you don't mind," I told him politely.

"Of course, Christine." He looked at me with an appraising eye. I wasn't sure what he was thinking, or what was going through his mind, and it made me all the more nervous.

"I wanted to speak to you, Christine, about your performance so far with the company. Especially where singing is concerned. Now, I know you are primarily a dancer, and quite a fine dancer, if I do say so!" I gave a small smile as he continued.

"But, some of us on the production staff are a bit concerned about your vocals, nonetheless. So far in rehearsals you're singing has been somewhat lacking. La Carlotta is convinced you possess no talent at all."

Carlotta? I wondered when she got such a weighted voice in the production team. She was only a performer, just like anyone else!

"I on the other hand can see that you do have talent, just perhaps not entirely in your vocals. It is evident you have some skill in singing, you aren't the worst person I have ever heard, by far. However, I must admit, had your dancing skills not been so precise and keen, and without Cecile's recommendation, I probably would not have cast you in the first place."

His revelation hit me like a huge slap across the face. Not cast me at all? I couldn't believe it. I knew they had been looking for triple threats, and I knew I wasn't strong in all areas. But had I really been that terrible? He continued.

"Now, before you get too upset or worked up, I am sure there is a way around all this. Have you ever considered taking voice lessons?" he inquired.

"Well, yes. When I was younger. My mom was a singer, and I guess I always meant for her to teach me. But I was always so involved with dance," I answered honestly.

"And now? Can't your mother help you out?" he prodded me further.

"My mother. . .well, both of my parents are dead." Now was not the time I wanted him to bring up those particular wounds on top of everything else that was going on. But I continued on anyway before he could ask me anything else about my parents.

"I mean, I know I need help, but I thought that if I made the production, I would be given help. . ." I mumbled lamely.

"Well, I understand that assumption. And I am very sorry to hear about your parents. Truly I am." To his credit, he really did seem sorry. Yet that moment was quickly gone as he went on.

"But to be perfectly frank, we do not have the time or the resources to give our cast members lessons. Of course we can help you here and there, but I feel you would benefit greatly from private lessons. We don't want to lose one of our star dancers, Miss DuBois-- er, excuse me, Christine. But we do want this show to be the best Opera Boston has seen, the best we have ever put on. You can understand that, yes?"

"Of course, sir. I have been working very hard. I just get really nervous singing. With all the. . ._extra_ people in the room," I tried hinting to the presence of Carlotta, "it just gets frustrating."

"Well, that I can understand. But a few extra people in a rehearsal hall is nothing compared to the crowds that will appear on opening night and future performances. We cannot deal with stage fright either," he said sternly.

"Oh, no! It's nothing like that. I don't have stage fright. I just feel as if, well, certain people, like Carlotta, are out of place there in the room while we are rehearsing." I didn't want to sound mean or insulting, but I also didn't want him to think I was nervous around a crowd.

"I know it might be nerve racking to have such a star as La Carlotta in the room. But she does not mean to criticize. She is strictly there for support and to make the show the best it can be. Just between you and me, I know she can be a bit eccentric, but there have to be some allowances. After all, she is quite a big name, and it is an honor to have her with this company!"

"Yes, I understand," I choked out. A bit eccentric? I was thinking a bit arrogant was a more appropriately description.

"Well, then excellent. So, the crowded room should be no big deal, and Carlotta shouldn't be a problem any longer. We are not asking you to be a prima donna. But we are asking you to be better. I have a list of instructors who give private voice lessons, many I have worked with before, and they are wonderful! If you call them, they will give you their rates and times of availability." He handed me the printed out list with almost a dozen names listed.

Private voice lessons from opera professionals were going to be expensive, and I knew it. Although I hadn't been hurting for money, I certainly did not have that type of cash to waste! Their rates could be anywhere from a hundred dollars an hour! I remembered some of my friends from the Conservatory and what they had to pay daily and weekly for outside help. There was no way I could afford this now. A week's worth of lessons would be my entire paycheck from the opera. I wasn't sure if it was worth it.

Mr. Reyer looked at me thoughtfully. I could tell he was being sincere, and was truly trying to help me. But he also did have a major, large budget production to worry about. He didn't have time to baby me either. That was the tough world of show business.

"Alright, Mr. Reyer. I will see what I can find out and try to make arrangements for lessons. And I'll also try not to be as distracted in the vocal rehearsals. I guess just being James' assistant and all. . . I just have a lot on my mind. I just want it to be a great show, too."

"It will be! Don't worry. I am sure this meeting has been rather unpleasant, but as I said, we don't want to have to lose you as a company member. Just put as much effort into practicing singing as you do for dancing, and I have no doubt you will shine," he concluded with a smile.

"Thank you, sir. I will. Have a good evening."

"You, too! We'll see you bright and early Monday morning for a fresh start!"

As I walked out of the theatre, I thought about all that had just transpired. I thought things had been going fairly well. I never expected that sort of ultimatum. Mr. Reyer hadn't come right out to say it, but I got the feeling that if I didn't shape up my singing, I would be kicked out of the show, dancing or no dancing. That was just the way it was going to be, and the way it was in this business.

I couldn't really afford the lessons, but what else could I do? I had to have them if I wanted to keep this job, and get future jobs. Theatre is such a small community, I knew that if I got kicked out, my chances of landing another role would be slim. Word would travel fast about me, and I couldn't let that happen.

I thought about trying to enlist the help of Tatum again, to give me some more pointers. But I knew I needed more than pointers. And I was sure she had enough on her plate already with learning the music and rehearsing. She wouldn't have time to help me. I could have called some old friends from the Conservatory, but knew many of them were probably struggling to find jobs and wouldn't be able to take me on for free. Some of my parents' old acquaintances might have been able to help out, but most of them lived in Connecticut or elsewhere. And it would have been weird and too painful asking one of them for help.

I was running out of options, and was almost on the verge of tears by the time I got back to my apartment. I wasn't sure what I was going to do. I knew I could sing better if I just tried harder. But I didn't think trying harder would be enough. I blamed a lot of my failure on Carlotta. But mostly I blamed myself. I had let her get under my skin so much, I really had just given up that day. I couldn't even deny that. But there was something so terrible about her. She wasn't even that good herself! And the way Mr. Reyer just seemed to allow her to be such a diva-- it seemed as if her star power had made him wrapped around her little finger. It wasn't fair.

I let myself in the front door, and knew right away I was going to be alone for the night. It was Saturday night, and of course Meg would be out. The way I was feeling though, that was fine with me. I didn't feel like dealing with her. She would have been able to tell right away something was wrong, and would want me to tell her all about it. I couldn't relive all that had just happened or explain my new worries and insecurities. She would probably just trivialize it anyway, say I was great, and move on. I loved Meg, but I was definitely the more serious and rational of the two of us.

I decided the best thing to do was soak in a warm bubble bath to relieve the tension of my aching body and my pounding head. I had a lot to deal with in the next few days of trying to decide what to do about voice lessons and singing. I figured the best course of action would be to try and relax my muscles and mind and go to bed early.

As I got ready for bed, I noticed the book of opera arias laying on my dresser. I thought about Erik, as I had found myself doing often since our last meeting a week ago when I told him about getting cast. So much had happened since then. I hadn't worked at the library since, so I hadn't seen him. That too had been bothering me all week. Speaking to him, however briefly, in the past weeks had always made me feel better. I smiled when I remembered I was going to work tomorrow, since we had a company day off for Sunday. Erik had said to me that I would have a lot to learn. He was definitely turning out to be right about that. And yet even though he knew I was rough, he still saw the potential. Very raw potential.

Suddenly my first positive thought of the night came to my head. Erik had said he knew about music and singing-- maybe he could recommend someone to tutor me who wouldn't charge me a lot. Or maybe he had some friends who would do it as a personal favor, although I couldn't picture Erik having that many friends. I couldn't picture him doing a lot of things. He still remained such a mystery.

Those thoughts helped me to drift off to sleep. Maybe things would start to look up after tomorrow. There was no guarantee that I would see Erik again at the library. But I sort of just came to accept now that I would. He always just appeared. There was something very comforting about that thought. . . .

I was woken up some time later by the ringing of my cell phone. A glance at my clock told me it was a little past 1 o'clock in the morning. I had been half asleep, half awake when I heard Meg come in a few hours earlier, so I knew it couldn't be her calling.

I rubbed my eyes as the phone kept ringing. I checked the caller ID, but it said it was a blocked number. Curious, I opened the phone to see who could possibly be calling me at this hour.

"Hello," I grumbled into the phone, still groggy with sleep. There was no response.

Again, I said with more force, "Hello? Is someone there?"

I listened, but there was silence.

**A/N:** **You know the drill! Come on, Review! ;-)**


	14. The Midnight Hour

**A/N: Nov. 18, 2006 It has been SEVEN months...but here it is, a new chapter! I bet you all thought I had given up. Well, a promise is a promise, and I promise this story will have an end. I'm truly very sorry for the delay. It has been a rough seven months (check my profile). Thank you to all my faithful readers! Without further ado--**

**Chapter 13: The Midnight Hour**

_I rubbed my eyes as the phone kept ringing. I checked the caller ID, but it said it was a blocked number. Curious, I opened the phone to see who could possibly be calling me at this hour._

"_Hello," I grumbled into the phone, still groggy with sleep. There was no response._

_Again, I said with more force, "Hello? Is someone there?"_

_I listened, but there was silence._

"Seriously, last time-- is anyone there?" I sighed. If this was a joke, it wasn't funny.

"Christine?" Came a timid, but urgent whisper.

"Randall? Is that you? Why are you calling me at one in the morning?"

"I just wanted to... check up on you..."

"An odd time to be checking up on me. There are other hours in the day. Hours that are better for calling people," I said in annoyance.

A pause, then, "I think something may be wrong," was his response.

"Randall, are you in trouble? Do you need money or something? Should I call the police?" I started to panic, thinking the worst. "This is getting a bit ridiculous if you won't tell me what is really going on."

"I don't know...I don't even know where to begin. I just want to make sure you are alright." He did sound desperate, but I was still annoyed and let him have it.

"Of course I am alright. Or I was until your call woke me up. I've had a really long and pretty much bad day. I don't need you making creepy phone calls to me at night from a blocked phone number and then being silent when I answer," I yelled out at him through the line. I could tell something was really upsetting him, but if he wanted to play mind games, he could count me out. I wasn't in the mood.

"I know, Chris, I know... I'm just nervous. I get the feeling someone might be following me," he went silent for a second, then whispered, "And maybe you as well."

"Why would you think someone would be following me, or you for that matter?" I asked honestly. I had guessed someone from Randall's job might be giving him problems, but I couldn't figure how I would be involved, especially since we weren't even really dating anymore. I could sense Randall's hesitation as he answered me. He still wasn't telling me everything.

"I'm not sure, maybe they aren't. Tonight. . . I was out walking tonight in the Commons, and I could have sworn there was someone trailing me. I'd turn around and see a dark blur, then look in front of me and it was there again. I just had a bad feeling... I couldn't explain it."

"Randall, you know how dangerous it is to walk through the park at night. It probably _was _someone trailing you-- a robber or drug dealer or something." I wasn't even convinced that's all it was, but I hated to think the worst.

"Maybe... The other day, someone sent me..."

"Sent you what? A threat or something. Really, you should just go to the police, Randall," I sighed hoping he would take my advice if something were as serious as that.

"I can't!" he shouted. Then calmly, "It's... it was probably nothing. Never mind... But...But, you haven't...noticed anyone new hanging around you, or following you? Maybe someone at the Opera or--" he trailed off. "Anything putting you out of ease, or anyone who made you feel nervous?"

I was silent for a moment, pondering Randall's outburst and questions. At first I was going to dismiss his worries. I had been fine on my own. But when I thought about anyone new around me, my mind snapped to Erik. My new friend had recently and mysteriously shown up. Surely it was just a coincidence. How could Erik possibly be connected to Randall in some way. Erik never said anything about him. It didn't make sense. Besides, Erik never made me feel awkward. He was never creepy or disconcerting. Mysterious yes, but a threat? He had always made me feel... great! He made me feel better about myself. Sure, Erik had appeared recently and was taking some sort of interest in me, but none of that seemed to be too odd. He was certainly an enigma and I didn't know much about him, but that didn't mean his intentions were malicious or some sort of sick game...did it?

I instantly felt guilty for thinking ill of Erik. He had been nothing but helpful and encouraging. He had been the only one who made me feel better about...everything recently. And Erik could have been coming to the library for ages. Maybe I just hadn't noticed him there except that first time. After all, I had been looking like an idiot, so I obviously noticed someone staring at me. Any other night I would have just gone on my way. Plus, I was single. So another guy was taking an interest in me-- that wasn't so unbelievable either!

My silence must have spoken more truth than if I had voiced all these thoughts out loud because Randall sounded even more panicked.

"There is someone isn't there... Someone you've noticed? Have they spoken to you, asked you anything about me? Please, Christine, this is important!" he nearly screeched.

"Randall, really, calm down... there... there isn't anyone creepy hanging around me. I was just thinking about some people at the opera. I mean there are a few company members who are rude or that I don't like...but nothing odd or unusual." I hoped he would believe that much.

"Are you sure? That's it? Please tell me," he said with an edge to his voice.

"Is there something else you want to share with me?" I questioned him.

"No... everything should be fine. I probably shouldn't even be calling you... I just wanted to be sure you were alright. Maybe... maybe I should come over, you know, look around your place," he offered.

"I assure you that I'm safe. I live in one of the safest neighborhoods in Boston." I sighed briefly into the phone. "Look, Randall, it's really late. I'm so exhausted, and on top of it all, I have to work tomorrow. So it will be another long day. I just want to go back to sleep, alright? Maybe we can meet for coffee later in this week, okay? But, I think you just need to get some rest too. Just be smart, and stay calm."

"Maybe you're right. Just please be careful. If you notice anything off... tell someone. Call me, or let Meg know, or the police."

"I will be fine. I'm always so busy, I'm always with people. There's nothing to worry about. Now I'm going back to bed. Call me next time at a more reasonable hour."

"Okay...I'm sorry." A pause. "Goodnight, Christine." Then a click and he was gone.

Although I really didn't think I had anything substantial to fear, the phone call left me feeling uneasy. Randall had been acting strange for quite sometime, even before I had first met Erik. I had been around him plenty of times, alone for the most part, so I figured if he was out to get me as Randall figured someone was... he would have done something? He wouldn't have been nice to me, or complimented me, or tried to give me advice. He wouldn't have even shown himself _or_ told me his name!

Randall was being paranoid. Who knew what type of stuff went on at his office. Someone at work must have been messing with him, trying to scare him. He hadn't been working there for that long and had recently been promoted, so maybe it was some sort of weird initiation thing. A corporate hazing, if such a thing existed.

Either way, I had too many other things to worry about then to let Randall get to me. There was a reason I broke up with him, so I wouldn't have to deal with all his drama. I was in theatre. I had enough drama of my own.

As it always seems to do, the morning sun rose earlier than I wanted it to. After I had hung up with Randall the night before, I had some trouble falling asleep. My mind would not shut down. Thoughts of music, singing, Randall, and Erik floated through my head. I didn't want to stay awake dissecting everything new in my life, but my brain had other plans.

I was finally able to get some sleep, although I had trouble getting comfortable enough to sleep deeply. I turned frequently in my bed, and was unable to peacefully have any dreams. As my alarm rang, I quickly shut it off, but reluctantly sat up in bed. Before Randall had called , I had begun to feel more at ease with my situation. I had felt better because at least I had come up with an idea-- ask Erik for help and advice on my singing, which at the time had been my main concern. But after our conversation, I still kept hearing that nagging voice in my head ask, _"But, you haven't...noticed anyone new hanging around you, or following you? Anything putting you out of ease, or anyone who made you feel nervous?" _

Again, my guilty mind set off a small warning signal about Erik. I didn't want to think Randall's words held any truth. Just before falling asleep I had convinced myself that Randall was overly paranoid, and someone was playing a joke on him. But in the daylight hours, I started to feel uneasy. What if meeting Erik wasn't a coincidence? What if he did have some other motive?

I didn't want my brain to be stuck on those types of thoughts. But sometimes a girl's brain can overanalyze every situation. It gets stuck on things and picks and picks to the point of exhaustion and then some! And that is where I found my self as I went to get some reinforcements-- namely, Meg.

I relayed the story of Randall's phone call, but left out the parts about Erik that were playing through my mind. I didn't want to worry her, and I didn't want someone else to confirm what my brain had been pondering. Luckily, Meg came up with her own take on the situation, one that I wasn't quite sure I believed, but was better than the alternative.

"Okay, he is clearly trying to just scare you to get you back!"

"What?' I asked momentarily confused thinking she meant he was paying me back for some sort of trick I played on him.

"Randall. He's just trying to scare you so you'll feel unsafe and cling to him. It's a typical guy thing. Make the girl feel weak and scared so the man can be the protector. It is so obvious!" she explained as if I was dumb for not getting it in the first place.

"Maybe," I countered. "But Randall was acting weird even before we broke up. And he is still acting strangely."

"Yeah, but I'm sure it was nothing more than stress at work. Now he is just cashing in on his earlier behavior so he can win you back," she laughed. "Is anyone following you or creeping you out? Ha, probably on a daily basis, this is Boston, full of creepy people. He just said that to make you jumpy. Now you'll look at everyone and be nervous! Especially guys, potential boyfriends at the Opera! Even, what's his name? The guy at the library! Better be careful, according to Randall, he's an axe murderer!"

It took me a second to register that she was referring to Erik, and to realize that she was making a huge joke out of the whole situation. It relieved some of my stress. Meg had a point. I had never thought badly about Erik until Randall mentioned something. So of course I was becoming momentarily paranoid as well, and nitpicking every new person I had come into contact with. It was like when people read about the symptoms of some illness-- instantly they begin to think that _they_ must have that disease despite all evidence to the contrary.

"Meg... I'm glad we had this talk," I said with a smile.

"Wow, you actually agree with me? Usually I give you my take on things, and I think you just nod to get me to be quiet!"

"Well, this time, I think your point is very valid. I'll let Randall be dramatic. In the meantime, I have to go to work today."

An hour later I was headed out to the library for my shift, a longer one than usual. Since I had been missing so much to be at rehearsals, I wanted to work double to pick up some of the hours I had skipped. The weather was beginning to drop significantly, even for the end of September. I was always disappointed when the air began to get cold. Even though I had lived in New England my whole life, I was still a warm weather girl a heart. The air wasn't freezing though, just chilly, so I didn't mind the walk.

I arrived at the large gray stone building in the heart of the city and entered through the older front side entrance. I always came in through the front because I liked the atmosphere better. It was what was considered the "old" library and had murals painted on the walls, and a tile mosaic on the floors and ceiling of the entrance. It felt very classical, like I was stepping back in time. Plus, the back entrance was always less populated and very quiet, the way a library should be, in my mind.

I began my shift and went through most of the day with hardly any action, work related or otherwise. I hadn't expected Erik to be waiting for me in the front foyer the minute I walked through the doors, but I was 20 minutes away from leaving and I still hadn't seen or heard from him. Maybe it was foolish of me to think that he would be there at all, but that had been our pattern as of late. It had been a week since I had seen him at all, and with all the hype I had created for him in my head over the last night and early morning, I really wanted him to be there. And not just so I could see if he knew of anyone who gave voice lessons. I just...missed him.

I finished my final rounds, disappointed in Erik's lack of appearance. I checked my watched and glanced out a nearby window. It was eight o'clock, and the sun was already down. It wasn't like Erik to not show up. It wasn't like we planned on meeting... but he felt late, as if he had missed our unspoken meeting.

My shift was over and I started to head out. The walk to my apartment was a good distance, and I figured I had better go to the bathroom before going out into the cold night. The nearest restroom was located in the lowest level of the library, down an old vaulted ceiling corridor that always made me fell like I was traveling in some secret cave-like passageway.

When I was finished, I began my journey back up through the catacombs, as I sometimes referred to the basement. The halls, in keeping with the "old library" feel, were not lit with the newer fluorescent lighting of the other half of the building, and so the tiny halls were very dim, which I felt added to the ambiance. I was alone, as the building was just closing for the night, so I was startled when I thought I heard someone come up behind me. I quickly turned, expecting to see a security guard or someone else doing their final rounds. But no one was there.

I shook my head and turned back around, but froze in my tracks as someone seemed to materialize right before my eyes.

"Good evening, Ms. DuBois. A brisk night for a walk... but perhaps you will indulge in one with me?"

It was Erik. And he was right on time after all.

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